


D.N.A (Does Not Apply)

by Lokis_Winchester



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adopted Children, F/M, Geniuses, Later Implied Johnlock, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23881078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokis_Winchester/pseuds/Lokis_Winchester
Summary: Annalise, given up by her birth parents, has jumped around the foster system for 10 years until a miracle brought her to Madeline & Siger Holmes. Now, fast foward 17 years; Anna has found a perfect fit among the Holmes family and is a brilliant Forensics. What happens, though, when psychological problems continue to arise in her every day life- seemingly to only get worse? When she is finally able to get her unsealed adoption record, will she like what she finds? Will she seek out her birth family for the answers she always wanted?Or will she ignore it all, sticking instead to the life she has, constantly wondering: Why?
Relationships: Greg Lestrade/Original Female Character, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Spencer Reid & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! So this is my first Sherlock fanfic AND my first Criminal Minds fanfic. The majority of this will take place in the Sherlock universe, and will eventually bring in the Criminal Minds-verse. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> This is also found on Fanfic . net, and I'll upload 1 chapter each week until I catch up to where I am there

2nd August 1996  
London, England  
\- -

"Holmes?"

Two aging adults stood up from their chairs, leaving a younger adult sitting- one leg crossed over the other.

"It's a pleasure to meet the both of you. My name is Catherine Winters- I am one of the Family Service administrators," the blonde lady said, shaking both of their hands.

"Siger Holmes, and this is my wife- Madeline," the male introduced, then gestured to the other male still sitting," Our eldest son- Mycroft."

"Pleasure," Catherine nodded to their son, before turning her brown eyes back to the parents," Now- I've had communication with Samantha- the administrator you've had contact with the past month. She tells me that the two of you have interest in one of our foster children- is that correct?"

"Yes- a young girl. Annalise," Madeline nodded.

"If you don't mind my asking- how did you come across her profile? It states here you didn't have any previous interest in fostering or adopting?"

"A neighbor lady of ours- one we've known for several years now," Madeline explained," She—and her husband—have been trying to have children, but no luck. They thought to adopt one instead- Louise found Annalise's profile and brought it to our attention."

"Why would she bring it to you- instead of adopting the child herself?"

"Some of the points made in Annalise's profile- the intellectual level she is- mirrors that of our boys. Mycroft and Sherlock are quite the brilliant minds," Siger justified, as Catherine nodded.

"How old is your youngest?"

"Sherlock- he's fifteen years of age."

"Why do you feel you should foster Annalise?" Catherine questioned," She's been fostered by several families over the years- why would yours be any better than the previous?"

"We- Siger and I- as well as our boys, can keep up with her intellect. We can keep her mind sharp without having her feel out of place. We can give her a loving home- a place she will be safe- where she will feel safe."

They watched, as Catherine noted a few things on her clipboard. The blonde's brow furrowed slightly, as though contemplating something. Madeline felt her breath catch in her throat, as the thought that they might not get Annalise arose. Siger sensed his wife's unease and sent a look behind them to their son- a silent plea.

"She means more to you than some ordinary child you're accustomed to. She's special to you."

Catherine peered towards the Holmes' and looked at Mycroft- whom until now had not spoken a word nor had he moved an inch. He now stood beside his mother- hands tucked into the front pockets of his pants.

"Come again?"

"Annalise," Mycroft explained," Normally Family Service Administrators try to keep an emotional distance from the many children than come and go through their offices. Why get… overly attached… to any of the children? They'll be leaving with a new family, probably- a wish from all administrators- never to be seen in these walls again. Finally finding a forever home- a family to stay with. I know for a fact; my parents are more than capable of caring for any child- especially one such as Annalise. Samantha has expressed much enthusiasm towards my parents' profile- seemingly such enthusiasm that one would showcase if it was a given that my parents would be awarded the child in question. Yet you keep stalling- debating."

"How-?"

"The past ten minutes that you've stood there, you've shown not one- but two- behaviors of anxiety. Your left leg seems to have a tick- uncontrollable, presumably. Every time my parents would answer one of your questions, you would also chew on the bottom of your lip. So, I reiterate. Annalise is special to you. Why?"

"I…" Catherine seemed a loss for words, but soon composed herself- holding the clipboard close to her body.

"No need to be defensive," Mycroft mused," Merely a simple deduction based on the facts." Catherine looked to the floor beneath them, before softly sighing- and sitting down on a nearby chair. Placing the clipboard in her lap, she looked up at the family before her- and came clean with some information.

"I've known Annalise for much longer than most Administrators know a child. She… she was the first case I had when I joined the Foster and Adoptive program, ten years ago. I watch- every time- as she goes to a new family—and I ache every time she comes back. Each time, she's a bit more broken inside than the last. Her… problems are not her fault- but the families she is sent to seem to always believe that the problem lies with her. She's a child. An innocent child- that was thrown into this… unforgiving system… without a chance."

"You care about her," Madeline surmised, sitting down in a chair directly opposite of Catherine.

"More than I should have ever allowed myself to be. I was young—new to all of this… And Annalise… she's such a joyful child- if one gets to properly know her. The only problem is- no one really tries. They treat her like all other children—but…"

"She's not like other children."

"Exactly," Catherine nodded," I just want to protect her as long as I can. I told myself, the last time she came back to the system- two months ago- that if I could just find the perfect family for her. I wouldn't need to worry anymore. I'll be honest with you, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. When your profile came to my desk- I was… excited. Hopeful. I volunteered to fly alongside Annalise, from our office in Boston- over here to London. Your answers- they lift my hope even higher. It worries me though- I don't want to choose the wrong family- you understand?"

"We do," Siger nodded, before continuing," About seven years ago, we lost our daughter. House fire. Ruined our home. Took our daughter from us. Eurus was only a child- barely seven years old herself. My wife and I… we never even thought of bringing another child into the family- biologically or not."

"We had some… hesitations," Madeline admitted," All of this- was it the correct thing to do? Almost took a week- thinking and over thinking the situation. I tried to focus on my novel- but all I could think of was Annalise. By the end of the sixth day- I had my answer. We had to try. We have to. It's the correct step. I know it."

Catherine listened to their words, nodding slightly- mostly to herself- before she stood up," If you'll excuse me a moment." Exiting the room, Catherine left the Holmes there alone. Madeline looked to Siger- almost a bit uncertain, a bit lost. Did they not get the child?

"It's alright dear," Siger soothed, wrapping a loving arm around his wife's shoulders.

"I wouldn't get your hopes up just yet, Mummy," Mycroft told her, as he took a seat once more. His left arm rested on the small square table that was beside his chair, and together the family waited in silence. After a few moments, footsteps sounded- and when Madeline looked to the door- a soft gasp left her throat. There stood Catherine and in front of her, stood a young girl; her brown hair pulled into a ponytail over her left shoulder and her brown eyes looking around the entire room, before landing on each of the Holmes, one by one. First Siger, then Madeline- and finally Mycroft.

"Annalise, why don't you play some, while I have a chat with Mr. and Mrs. Holmes?"

"Okay," Annalise nodded, her voice soft yet confident. She walked over to the table beside Mycroft and set her backpack down on the floor. As she opened it and reached in, Mycroft tutted to himself.

"Dolls."

Annalise stood up straight and looked into his eyes, before cocking her head to the side in a questioning manner," Why would you automatically assume- just because I am a girl- that I would play with dolls?" Behind them, all three adults gave soft chuckles at the young child's remark; they watch as she reaches back into her backpack and pulls out a board and a bag with wood pieces within.

"Chess. Do you know how to play?"

"Do I—of course I know how to play chess," Mycroft frowned in slight annoyance.

"Prove it. I bet I win." Mycroft watched this young child closely, doing a cold read of her- silently deducing to himself.

"You win- I'll gift you twenty pounds."

"Deal." Annalise stuck her hand out, expecting a handshake to seal it. Mycroft eyed her warily- and secretly surprised- before giving her hand a small shake. Across the room, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes sat with Catherine, watching the event unfold before them.

"My boys… they aren't the most… social," Madeline gave a small chuckle," Sherlock even seems slightly at odds with Mycroft more often than not. I love them just the same."

"You love your family, it's a good thing. Something all of us administrators strive to see, but unfortunately do not see as often as we would like," Catherine noted, before giving the parents most of her attention," Now, there are a few things that I must tell you about Annalise- before you give a definite answer."

"Yes- I recall you mentioning problems?"

"As I said before- the problems are no fault of Annalise's," Catherine restated, causing both Holmes' parents to nod- and she continued," Annalise has… something akin to night terrors- best I can describe it. On occasion, as she sleeps- she'll start screaming, crying- tossing and turning. These instances causes other children near her to become frightened- and even sometimes the adults become frustrated or panicked."

"What causes her nightmares?"

"I couldn't begin to say. We've suggested to several of the families to get her into a Psychologist- but none of them ever do- and unfortunately, the Center doesn't have the funds to send our children to Specialists every time. So, this will be something to bear in mind- should she leave here today with you."

"Very well- anything else? Anything you can tell us about her—her as an individual?"

"As I mentioned, Annalise is unique. Currently, at her age, she has an IQ of 132—most kids her age only have an IQ between 80-100. Her reading skill is unparalleled- I think the last time we tested her she was reading 3200 words per minute. Every time I see her, she's somehow taught herself something new- be it bits of a language, history facts, statistics. Since she was 6 I have noticed more and more Obsessive Compulsive traits, mostly just arranging things in a particular order- nothing too serious."

"What of her schooling?" Siger questioned.

"That's the slightly tricky part- seeing as to how American schooling is different than your own. To the American system- she should be in third grade, with the others her age. This past June she graduated from the eighth grade- where her peers were around fifteen. If I am figuring this correctly- it would be similar to her being in your Secondary School Year 9? Somewhere around there—again, only guessing."

"She's very intelligent then," Madeline smiled," Almost reminds me of our boys… and our Eurus. Is there anything you can tell us about her birth situation?"

"Unfortunately, no- her birth records were sealed. So, short of a court order- there is no obtaining those."

"That's fine- what-"

"Check mate."

The three of them looked across the room and couldn't help but chuckle once more. Mycroft sat there, almost gawking at the chess board between him and this child—the child in question had her hand held out, waiting patiently for her 'gift'. The smile on her face was enough to brighten anyone's day- and Madeline Holmes couldn't help but start smiling herself. She knew.

"We'll take her."

"That's wonderful," Catherine smiled, at ease with knowing Annalise would be going home with the Holmes; she stood up, preparing to leave the room," I'll be back with the foster paperwork—"

"No," Madeline shook her head, gazing to Siger—who nodded, understanding what his wife wanted," We don't want to foster her. We want to adopt her."


	2. Study in Pink - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that has shown interest in this! Means a lot to me.
> 
> So, let us continue with Annalise's story, shall we?
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own Sherlock or Criminal Minds (Oh the wicked things I would do to several characters If i did own them), but I do own my baby Annalise

January 2013  
17 Years Later

Anna stood to the side of the room, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed in front of her. Her brown eyes scanned the group of reporters, before flickering over to the table- as Detective Inspector Lestrade and Detective Sergeant Donovan sat down. Even an ordinary person could tell that Lestrade looked highly uncomfortable-

" _Almost feel sorry for him_ ," Anna thought to herself, " _Almost_."

"The body of Beth Davenport, Junior Minister for Transport, was found late last night on a building site in Greater London," Donovan started, as Anna looked at the background behind them- where three pictures of the victims were plastered," Preliminary investigations suggest that this was suicide. We can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore. In the light of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked. The investigation is ongoing but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take questions now."

"Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?"

"Well, they all took the same poison," Lestrade started, his discomfort only seemingly getting worse," Um, they were all found in places they had no reason to be. None of them had shown any prior indication of-"

"But you can't have serial suicides!"

"Well, apparently you _can_ ," Lestrade quipped, a bit of agitation come out.

"These three people- there's nothing that links them?"

"There's no link been found _yet,_ but we're looking for it. There has to _be_ one."

Suddenly, everyone's mobile phones dinged at once, causing everyone to peer at their devices.

"If you've all got texts, please ignore them," Donovan instructed, putting her own mobile down on the table.

"Just says, 'wrong'," one reporter remarked.

" _Sherlock_ ," Anna chuckled to herself, peering down at the floor for a moment before returning her attention to the press conference.

"Yeah, well, just ignore that. Okay, if there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm going to bring this session to an end," Donovan stated, preparing to stand up.

"But if they're suicides, what are you investigating?"

"As I say, these… suicides are _clearly_ linked. Um, its an… it's an unusual situation. We've got our best people investigating—"

Again, everyone's phones go off—even surprising Anna as she looked to her own mobile.

" _Wrong_!"

"Says 'wrong' again," A reporter frowned; shaking her head, Anna looked back to the detectives, only to catch Lestrade looking despairingly at Donovan.

"One more question."

"Is there any chance that these are murders, and if they are- is this the work of a serial killer?"

"I.. I know that you like writing about these, but these do appear to be suicides. We know the difference. The, um, the poison was _clearly_ self-administered."

"Yes, but if they _are_ murders- how do people keep themselves safe?"

"Well, don't commit suicide," Lestrade replied- his sass coming through again in his agitation. Anna struggled to hold back her laugh, managing to turn it into a meek cough. She saw Donovan lean over and whisper something to Lestrade, who grimaces before looking to the reporters again.

"Obviously, this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be."

Another ding from the Press' mobiles- and Anna didn't even need to see them to know what it said.

"Thank you." Lestrade and Donovan stood up and quickly walked away from the reporters. Pushing herself away from the wall, Anna followed them through the halls of Scotland Yard.

"You've got to stop him doing that. He's making us look like idiots," Donovan said to Lestrade as they walked.

"Well, if you can tell me how he does it, I'll stop him."

"You need to get your freak brother under better control, Holmes," Donovan frowned, as they entered the elevator," You probably know—how's he do it?"

"Right- because I have this absolute control over Sherlock's actions," Anna shot back, slightly glaring at the detective," We all know there is no controlling him- he's his own person. More than like, he doesn't even realize- well, more like he doesn't even care—that he's being utterly unhelpful and problematic. That's Sherlock though. As for how he does it? No clue. Both my brothers are… odd and seemingly ' _all knowing'_." Anna air quoted that last bit, a bit of annoyance evident in her tone.

0o0o

The next afternoon, Anna was in the midst of running a fingerprint through AFIS when Lestrade burst into the forensics room.

"Holmes!"

"Whatever it is, sir- I didn't do it." Anna muttered, glaring at the computer screen as if to make it find a match. The Detective Inspector made his way over to the brunette, stopping at her desk.

"A fourth."

The simple statement caught her attention, as she looked up from the screen and gazed into Lestrade's brown eyes- her breath catching for a second as she did.

"A- a fourth?" She shook her head to get her composure back," Why come to me though?"

"I… I need your help."

"You want to go to Sherlock," Anna smirked, crossing her arms in front of her," But you don't think he'll play nice."

"Will you help me?"

"Hmm… I dunno."

"Please- Anna," Lestrade pleaded, obvious desperation crossing his face. It pained her to see him like that and try as she might—Anna almost instantly caved—but played it cool.

"Oh very well," she agreed, throwing her hands up in the air in surrender," _Those puppy dog eyes of yours- I swear_."

"Thank you," Lestrade grinned, and Anna felt her knees go weak; thankfully, she was able to lean down as if she were doing something on the computer to hide it.

"Peters. Keep an eye on this- go to Detective Inspector Hopkins if it finds the print an owner," Anna instructed the other forensics person.

"You're not the boss of me," Peters replied, frowning as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Jus' do as she says!" Lestrade ordered, before hurrying out of the room with Anna right behind him. The car ride to 221 Baker street was spent with Lestrade explaining the fourth victim as Anna overlooked the file.

" _Oh, Sherlocks gonna love this_ ," she thought, as they pulled up to the curb and jumped out. Looking up as Lestrade raced into the building, Anna saw Sherlock standing at the window and flashed him a small smile before chasing after Lestrade.

"Brixton. Lauriston Gardens," Lestrade was saying, as Anna made it up the steps.

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't come get me if there wasn't something different," Sherlock mused, appearing uninterested.

"You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah."

Anna blocked them out for a moment, peering about the room—seeing Mrs. Hudson, giving her a small smile—and then noticing a new addition. A male.

" _Mid-thirties… Military from the haircut… No—stop it. Bloody hell—I blame my brothers_ ," Anna frowned, before hearing them say her name.

"She has another case that she's working- she can't be forensics for this one," Lestrade frowned.

"Anderson won't work with me."

"We'll he won't be your assistant."

"I need an assistant," Sherlock insisted.

"No, no you don't. You think you need an assistant," Anna shook her head," And to you- an Assistant is just a fancy term for someone to drag around town while you show off your deductive skills and try to one-up Scotland Yard."

"Try to?" Sherlock raised a brow.

"Never mind all that—" Lestrade interrupted," Will you come?" Sherlock looked over Lestrade's shoulder, to Anna- who gave him a small smile- a plea that only he heard.

"Not in a police car. I'll be right behind."

"Thank you," Lestrade breathed, relief washing over him. He gave a small nod to the other two in the room before walking out.

"Just switch Anderson cases," Sherlock suggested under his breath to Anna, after Lestrade had left.

"Nope."

"Trip him down the staircase."

"Sherlock!" Anna laughed, shaking her head," Play nice with the others. I'll catch you later." With that, she made her way down the stairs and got into Lestrade's car.

"I'll drop you off back at the Yard, then head over to Brixton."

"Thanks. Do let me know if Sherlock acts up—but don't expect too much. It's Sherlock, after all."

0o0o

"Come on now, Lestrade- seriously?" Anna questioned, sitting on the couch and looking across the room at him. He lounged- rather comfortably- in her brother's chair, as several people seemed to tear apart the kitchen.

"Sorry Anna, but it's his own fault. I need to teach him a lesson." They heard a voice travel around downstairs- both recognizing it as Sherlock's.

"Ah, good. About time he joins us, no?" Lestrade smirked, before asking the group in the kitchen," Find anything?"

"Depends on your definition of 'anything'."

Suddenly, the door flew open and Sherlock barged in- immediately storming over towards Lestrade.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid," Lestrade frowned.

"You can't just break into my flat," Sherlock seethed.

"And you can't withhold evidence," Lestrade countered," And I didn't break into your flat."

"Well, what do you call this then?"

Anna watched as Lestrade looked around briefly at his officers, an amused look on his face; with feigned innocence, he quips," It's a drugs bust."

"Seriously?! _This_ guy, a junkie?! Have you met him?!" the other guy questioned. Sherlock turned and walked closer to him.

"John…"

"I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational," the man—Anna realizing his name is John—said to Lestrade, looking past Sherlock's shoulder.

"John, you probably want to shut up _now_."

"Yeah, but come on…" John trailed off, looking into Sherlock's eyes. Their gaze holds for a long moment, before John realizes how serious Sherlock is being.

"No."

"What?"

"You?"

"Shut up," Sherlock frowned, angry at the whole situation. He turned back to Lestrade, who was still lounging in his chair," I'm not your sniffer dog."

"No- Anderson's my sniffer dog," Lestrade joked, nodding towards the kitchen, as the man in question poked his head out from the divider. He raised his hand in a sarcastic greeting, only causing Sherlock to become angrier.

"Anderson- what are you doing here on a drugs bust?"

"Oh, I volunteered," Anderson explained, his voice laced with venom. Anna stood up from the couch and walked over towards where Lestrade and Sherlock were. She saw her brother bite his lip angrily, as he tried desperately to keep his composure.

"They _all_ did. They're not strictly speaking on the drugs squad, but they're very keen."

"Sherlock-" Anna began, before he turned on her.

"You too? Of course—you probably let them in with your key," Sherlock glared.

"I let them in, yes—but I didn't volunteer," Anna told him," When it comes to anything against either of you, I refuse to participate. Lestrade knows this—as do you. So chill." Behind him, Anna could see that John looked all sorts of confused- but before she could say anything to him, Donovan came into view- holding a small glass jar.

"Are these human eyes?"

"Put those back!" Sherlock and Anna exclaimed at the same time, earning looks from John, Lestrade and Donovan.

"They were in the microwave!"

"It's an experiment," Sherlock frowned.

"One he's been working on for almost five months now- so don't muck it up," Anna continued. Donovan shook her head in disgust before disappearing back into the kitchen.

"Keep looking, guys," Lestrade said, standing up," Or you could help us properly and I'll stand them down."

Sherlock began pacing the room angrily, as he muttered," This is childish."

"Well, I'm _dealing_ with a child," Lestrade bit back, as Anna struggled to hide a chuckle- earning a glare from Sherlock," Sherlock- this is _our_ case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?"

Sherlock stopped pacing and glared at Lestrade," Oh, what, so-so-so you set up a pretends drugs bust to bully me?"

"It stops being pretend if they find anything," Lestrade said, putting his hands on his hips.

"I am clean!" Sherlock exclaimed loudly.

"Is your flat— **all** of it?" Anna asked him.

"I don't even smoke," Sherlock huffed, unbuttoning his left sleeve and pulling it up to show the nicotine patch.

"Neither do I," Lestrade admitted, pulling up his right sleeve and showing a similar patch. Anna caught Sherlock roll his eyes as he turned away and lowered his sleeve.

"So, let's work together. We've found Rachel."

"Who is she?" Sherlock questioned, immediately turning back to Lestrade.

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter."

"Her daughter?" Sherlock frowned," Why would she writer her daughter's name? Why?"

"Never mind _that_ ," Anderson stated, pointing to the obnoxiously pink suitcase in the living room," We found the case. According to _someone_ , the murderer has the case. Here we found it in the hands of our favorite psychopath."

"Sociopath," Anna corrected.

"What?" Anderson questioned, looking at Anna like she was mad.

"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson," Sherlock explained, disparagingly," I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research." He turned back to Lestrade, as Anderson went back to searching the kitchen with a roll of his eyes.

"You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her."

"We can't do that Sherlock," Anna told him," Rachel's dead."


	3. Study in Pink - part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to find somewhere to leave chapter 2 at, without it being too weird. That seemed a good place as any. ((Plus, if I hadn't chopped it into two pieces, it would be extremely long))
> 
> So, here's the rest of Study in Pink. Next chapter will be based off one of the written works (so a little different) and then we'll delve into The Banker episode. (or we'll do another written works, and THEN the Banker. Either way- )
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Criminal Minds -sad face- But Annalise is allllll mine
> 
> Note: If you're wondering when the Criminal Minds cast will come into this, it'll be after Reichenbach. So, there's still quite a ways to go.

**Previously, on Sherlock: D.N.A:**

" _You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her."_

" _We can't do that Sherlock," Anna told him," Rachel's dead."_

**Now:**

"Excellent!" John looks startled at Sherlock's excited outburst.

"How, when and why? Is there a connection? There _has_ to be."

"Well, I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive," Lestrade explained," Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago." Anna noticed the grimace on John's face as he turned away. Sherlock on the other hand just look confused.

"No, that's… that's not right. How… why would she do that? Why?"

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yep—sociopath; I'm seeing it now," Anderson stated, peeking out from the kitchen and leaning on the divider.

Sherlock turned to him with exasperation etched all over his face," She didn't _think_ about her daughter. She scratched her name onto the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt." He began to pace the room once more, brows furrowing as he thought.

"You said the victims all took the poison themselves," John said," That he _makes_ them take it. Well, maybe he… I don't know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow."

"Yeah but that was ages ago," Sherlock said, stopping his pacing and turning to him," Why would she still be upset?" Almost all at once, everyone in the flat stopped what they were doing and were silent. Sherlock glanced around the room and then looked to Anna and John awkwardly.

"Not good?"

"Bit not good, yeah," John nodded.

"Sentiment, Sherlock," Anna explained," It's a real thing."

Sherlock shook it off and stepped closer to John, staring at him intently," Yeah, but if you were dying… if you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds, what would you say?"

"Please, God, let me live." Anna felt her heart jump a bit at John's words, and she felt sadness flow through her body.

"Oh, use your imagination!"

"I don't _have_ to." Sherlock was quiet for a few moments, before shifting on his feet a few times.

"Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever… Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she was clever," Sherlock continued, as he began pacing throughout the room," She's trying to tell us something." Suddenly, Mrs. Hudson came into view, stopping at the door to Sherlock's living room.

"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock."

"I didn't order a taxi. Go away."

"Sherlock- manners," Anna frowned.

Mrs. Hudson looks about the room," Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?"

"It's a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson," John explained to her, and her face paled a bit.

"But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers," Mrs. Hudson admitted anxiously. Anna saw Sherlock stop his pacing- his back to the door- and he shouted at everyone.

"Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson- face the other way. You're putting me off."

"What? My face is?!"

"You're just learning that fact now?" Anna mocked.

"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back," Lestrade ordered.

"Oh, for God's sake!"

"You're back, now, please!" Lestrade ordered, his voice sterner than it was his previous order; it made Anna's heart leap a bit, before she shook it off.

"Come on, think. Quick!" Sherlock muttered to himself.

"What about your taxi?"

"MRS. HUDSON!" Sherlock yelled, causing her to jump.

"Sherlock!" Anna exclaimed, before turning to the older lady calmly, "Mrs. Hudson- please, dismiss the taxi." She nodded and disappeared down the steps, as Anna walked over to her brother.

"Anna. Talk it out with me." Sherlock seemed to plead, his voice soft.

"Alright," Anna nodded, as Lestrade and John watched," We found her in a part of town that she would never go to. She had a string of lovers- more than likely that never knew about the others. Her mobile was not in her luggage or on her person- somehow the murderer has it in their possession. Did he take it from her? Did she give it to him? The poison—"

"Oh." Sherlock suddenly smiled in delight," Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!" Anna watched him walk across the room and then turn back to the others. "She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead. Do you see, do you get it?" They all thought for a moment, Lestrade and John still confused; Anna on the other hand, realized what Sherlock had concluded. He saw the realization dawn upon her face.

"You see it- Anna," Sherlock pointed out," She didn't _lose_ her phone, she never _lost_ it. She _planted_ it on him." He began pacing again, as he continued," When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."

"But how?" Lestrade questioned, causing Sherlock to stop his pacing.

"Wha…? What do you mean, how?"

Lestrade shrugged, causing Sherlock to exclaim," Rachel!" Everyone looked at him blankly, causing him to turn to Anna expectantly.

"Sorry- even I am lost on what Rachel has to do with anything," she apologized.

"Oh, look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be _so_ relaxing," Sherlock mused, his voice almost playful- Anna scowling at him- before he turned sterner," Rachel is not a name."

"Then what is it?" John asked.

"John, on the luggage. There's a label. E-mail address," Sherlock explained. As John walked over to it and read it aloud, Sherlock went to his laptop.

"Er, jennie dot pink at mephone dot org dot uk."

"Oh, I've been too slow. She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone. So it's a smartphone, it's e-mail enabled." Anna walked over to his chair and watched over his shoulder as he pulled up Mephone's website and typed the email address into the user name box.

"So, she had a website for her account," Anna realized," Her username is her e-mail address… and her password…. Rachel?"

"So we can read her e-mails. So what?" Anderson quipped, causing Sherlock to sit up straight and frown.

"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the I.Q of the who street. We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It's a smartphone, it's got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online."

"She's leading us directly to her murderer," Anna continued for Sherlock.

"Unless he got rid of it," Lestrade pointed out.

"We know he didn't," John shook his head.

"Come on, come on. Quickly," Sherlock urged impatiently, staring at the screen.

"Give it some time Sherlock. Technology isn't as quick as you are," Anna teased playfully, as Mrs. Hudson walked back into the room.

"Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver…" He got up and walked over to her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" John sat down in the chair that Sherlock had just vacated, as together with Anna, they watched a clock spinning around on the website, as it claims to locate in under three minutes. Sherlock turned away from Mrs. Hudson and towards Lestrade.

"We need to get vehicles. Get a helicopter. We're gonna have to move fast. This phone battery won't last forever."

"We'll just have a map reference, not a name," Lestrade frowned.

"It's a start!" Sherlock exclaimed, as a map appeared on the screen and began zooming in on the location of the phone.

"Sherlock…" John began.

"Where is it John?" Sherlock questioned.

"It's…. here," Anna stated, looking from the computer screen to Sherlock," The location is 221 Baker street." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man standing in the shadows behind Mrs. Hudson- but turned her attention back to her brother.

"How can it be here? How?" Sherlock questioned, straightening up.

"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere?" Lestrade suggested.

"What, and I didn't notice it? _Me_? _I_ didn't notice?"

"Enough Sherlock," Anna frowned.

"Anyway," John said, turning his attention to Lestrade," We texted him and he called back."

"Guys," Lestrade called out to his colleagues," We're also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim…" As everyone began searching, Anna watched as Sherlock began doing his own thing.

"John, you said that you had previously texted the phone? Do you still have the number?" Anna asked him.

"Hmm, yeah. Should still be around here somewhere. Sherlock had it on a piece of paper the other day," John nodded, as the two of them began filing through the papers on the table. Anna kept an eye on Sherlock out of her periphery vision- knowing he was piecing things together. A few moments passed, before Sherlock's phone dinged. Silently, Sherlock looked at his own mobile, before seeming to stare into space vacantly.

"Sherlock, you okay?" Anna questioned, as she paused her search and looked up from the table.

"What? Yeah, yeah. I-I'm fine."

"How can that phone be here?" John wondered, still searching.

"Dunno," Sherlock muttered.

"Ah- here it is, I'll try it again," John said finding the piece of paper with Jennifer Wilsons number on it.

"Good idea," Sherlock mumbled, barely audible, as he began heading towards the door.

"Where you going, Sher?" Anna asked him, as John looked up from typing the number into his phone.

"Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Wont be long." Anna and John frown as Sherlock leaves the room, and John calls out to him.

"You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Sherlock stated, as he hurried down the steps.

"Odd one," John stated, as he held the phone up to his ear and listened to it ring.

"Best to my knowledge, always has been," Anna chuckled. John walks over to the window, the phone to his ear- and watches something with interest.

"He just got in a cab," John said, before turning around to Lestrade and Anna- as Donovan walked over to them," It's Sherlock. He just drove off in a cab."

"I told you, he does that," Donovan frowned, irritated, as she turned to Lestrade," He bloody left again." As she walked back into the kitchen, she loudly said," We're wasting our time!"

"I'm calling the phone- it's ringing out."

"If it's ringing, it's not here," Lestrade shrugged, looking around in dismay.

"I'll try the search again," John frowned, reaching for the laptop and keeping the phone to his ear.

"Does it matter?" Donovan walked back over to them," Does _any_ of it? You know, he's just a lunatic, and he'll _always_ let you down. You're wasting your time. _All_ our time."

"You know what- Donovan- I've kept my cheek because we're always at work," Anna glared at the Detective, her anger rising," But I've about had it with your snide little remarks about Sherlock! The next time you say something bad about him- I swear I'll punch you in the face—consequences be damned."

The two ladies glared at one another, as Lestrade and John watched in silence.

"Lestrade?" Donovan uttered, looking away from Anna, and turning to her superior. He stares at her for a long moment as she holds his gaze, then his eyes flicker to Anna, before he sighs.

"Okay, everybody," Lestrade called out loudly," Done 'ere. Let's go."

Everyone began piling out and walking down the steps.

"Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?" Lestrade asked aloud, as he put his jacket on.

"You know him better than I do," John answered, as Lestrade turned his attention to him.

"I've known him for five years, and no, I don't. Anna-?" They turned their attention to her, only to find her over by the far window, mobile to her face as she spoke to someone.

"So, why do you put up with him?"

"Because I'm desperate, that's why," Lestrade turned to walk out the door, but turned back around as Anna walked over towards the table once more, mobile put in her pocket," And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one." Giving one last look to John, Lestrade turned his attention to Anna and asked," Coming?"

"I'll find my own way back to the Yard," Anna bit out, irritation still evident in her voice and expression. She noted Lestrade's face falling slightly, but he only nodded in silence, before turning back around and disappearing down the steps. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Anna sighed in annoyance, resting a hand on her hip.

"You… er, you seem very protective of him. Sherlock, I mean," John noted, causing Anna to look over her should to him as he sat at the table with the phone in one hand and the other hand on the laptop keyboard.

"Well, I am. It pisses me off to no end when people—like Donovan—judge Sherlock like they do. They don't know him like I do. He's not a bad person, he just… he doesn't understand most social cues or the concept of emotion. It's not his fault though, really. He's just always been like that."

"How long have you known him?" John questioned, as he finally gave up on the phone and tossed his onto the table.

"It'll be seventeen years this July."

"Oh, wow," John bit out, unsure of what to say to that," And you started… dating…?"

"What?" Anna froze, her eyes going wide for a second," No—no, no. Sherlock and I—haha. Ha! Oh, I'm sorry, but—haha. Yeah, no- Sherlock and I are not a couple."

"You're not?" John questioned, obviously confused," The two of you seem very close—like… real close…"

"Yeah— we should be," Anna laughed, placing her hands in the back pockets of her jeans," I'm his sister." That fact caused John's eyes to go wide and his curiosity grow.

"Sister? He never—"

"Never mentioned having one? Yeah- I know," Anna shrugged," We don't claim each other that often."

"And you're just so—"

"Different than him? Yeah- I know. Because unlike my brothers, I actually am attuned to my emotions, and don't hold them back. Anyways—I gotta get going. I've got my own casework to get back to. It was nice meeting you John," Anna said to him, before reaching in her wallet and pulling out a card, handing it to him," Here's my number- should you ever need it. And since you're dealing with Sherlock- odds are you'll need it more often than not. Best of luck with him." With that, I began walking out of the flat, heading down the stairs as I heard John mutter," Brothers?"

Not even a half-hour later, Anna was back at the forensics lab waiting on a hair analysis to come in for Detective Inspector Forbes. As she was sitting there reading a book on the Greek language, Anna heard her phone start buzzing. Though she didn't recognize the number, answered it anyway with a Shrug.

"Holmes."

"Anna—it's John. Look, I can't get ahold of Lestrade, but I got a location of Jennifer Wilson's mobile."

"You did," Anna straightened up in her chair, listening.

"I've got a bad feeling about this whole ordeal- so I need you to get Lestrade and the force down to Roland-Kerr College- you know it?"

"Yeah—well, I know where it is. I'll get right on it," she said, standing up and making a beeline for the door," And John? Keep my brother safe."

"Will do." As we hung up, Anna immediately dialed Lestrade's personal number and waited- still a bit sour after her confrontation of Donovan earlier.

"Sorry- well, not really- but I just received a call from John. He found Wilson's phone location- would you like the information or not?"

0o0o

The brunette stood beside Sherlock as he sat at the back of an ambulance. The paramedics re-placed the orange blanket around his shoulders for the umpteenth time, and as Anna looked to the side, she noticed Lestrade duck under the police tape and walk towards them, straightening his jacket as he done so.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me."

"Yeah, it's for shock," Lestrade told him.

"I'm not _in_ shock."

"Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs," Lestrade grinned, causing Sherlock to roll his eyes- and Anna let a small chuckle escape, causing Lestrade to smirk at her.

"So, the shooter. No sign?"

"Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but…" Lestrade shrugged,"… Got nothing to go on."

Anna bit back a laugh as Sherlock gave him this look with a his own smirk," Oh, I wouldn't say that." At this, Lestrade rolled his eyes, shuffling his feet and giving a sigh.

"Okay, gimme."

Sherlock stood up, beginning his deduction," The bullet they just dug out of the walls from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatised to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service ..." As he's talking, he turns to look around the area- and his gaze stops on John, who was standing behind the police tape. His voice began to falter," … and nerves of steel…"

Anna noticed Sherlock's gaze, following it to John- and saw John look over towards them, with an innocent look upon his face. Lestrade follows it too, but before he can start asking questions, Sherlock turns to him.

"Actually, do you know what? Ignore me."

"Sorry?"

"Ignore all of that. It's just the, er, the shock talking." Sherlock began walking towards John, but Lestrade stopped him.

"Where're you going?"

"I just need to talk about the- the rent."

"But I've still got questions for you."

Sherlock looked Lestrade, his gaze flickering to his sister a moment, before turning back to Lestrade with some irritation," Oh, what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!" He waved a corner of the blanket as to make a point. The act caused a small chuckle from Anna, to which Sherlock gave her a small, brotherly smile.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade exclaimed, exasperated as he crossed his arms.

"And I just caught you a serial killer… more or less."

"Lestrade, can't we just let him go home for the night? It's been a busy couple days- I'm sure Sherlock is tired," Anna asked, turning the Detective Inspectors attention to her. He looked thoughtful for a moment, before sighing.

"Okay. We'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go." Anna and Lestrade watch as Sherlock walks away, throwing he blanket into one of the police cars and ducking under the police tape.

"He can't keep going off on his own, Anna," Lestrade told her, his voice stern.

"I know- believe me, I do. But I've told you before, I can't control what my brother does."

"You do have influence over him though- maybe you can help curb his habits."

"I've tried, believe me," Anna gave a resigned sigh," But he's very stubborn- and as much of an influence as I may have, I can only do so much. If I could stop all his risky antics all together, believe me, I would. It'd put our parent's minds at ease, Mycroft's mind at ease- well, as much at ease as it could ever possibly be—and my own mind at ease. Still yet- I do believe his new… acquaintance... will be a positive influence on my brother. So, there may be a miracle yet."

"Yeah. We'll see about that," Lestrade sighed, as Donovan walked over. Anna was still miffed at her, so she immediately walked away, lightly brushing her shoulder as Anna made her way towards where John and Sherlock stood.

"…to prove you're clever." Anna heard John saying as she approached.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're an idiot." Sherlock smiled at this statement, and seeing her brother smile- truly smile- for the first time in a while, caused Anna to smile as well.

" _A good influence indeed_ ," Anna thought, coming to stand beside them," Well, whomever that shooter was- I would be honored to buy him a drink. Saved my idiot brothers life." The three of them shared a look, before Sherlock forced his smile down, and began walking once more.

"Dinner?"

"Starving."

"Same," Anna added, causing the others to look at her," What? Was I not invited?"

"No, no- you're invited. I want to know more about this… sibling thing you got going on."

"End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese stays open 'til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle," Sherlock informed, as John and Anna noticed a car pulling up ahead of them- and a man getting out.

"Sherlock. That's him. That's the man I was talking to you about." John's statement causes Sherlock to look over and frowns.

"I know exactly who that is."

"Wait—don't tell me. He forced you into a meeting in an abandon place and offered you money to spy on Sherlock?" Anna guessed.

"You've met him too?"

"Oh yeah." The three made their way over to this man, John noticing Sherlock looking rather unhappy.

"So, another case cracked. How very public spirited… though, that's never really your motivation, is it?"

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked him.

"As ever, I'm concerned about you."

"Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern'."

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"Oddly enough, no!" Sherlock replied sarcastically, causing Anna to chuckle again. She tried covering it up, but to no avail; the new man looked over to her- an odd look in his eyes, as he gave a small nod," Annalise. Pleasure to see you again. Staying out of trouble, I do hope."

"Always am, though I can't always say that trouble stays away from me," Anna shrugged, causing the man to frown slightly.

"Anyways, Sherlock, we have more in common that you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer… and you know how it always upsets Mummy."

Anna barely noticed the look of confusion on Johns face, as she began to focus on her brothers. She knew how they got—and unfortunately, it lay upon her to play mediator.

" _I_ upset her? Me? It wasn't _me_ that upsets her, Mycroft."

"No, no, wait. Mummy? Who's Mummy?"

"Mother – our mother. This is my—our—brother, Mycroft," Sherlock explained to John, who stares at the man in amazement, before turning to Anna.

"That's who you meant by 'brothers'."

"Yepp."

"Putting on weight again?"

"Losing it, in fact," Mycroft corrected, proudly.

"He's your _brother_?!"

"Of course he's my brother."

"So he's not…"

"Not what?" Sherlock asked, as Mycroft looked to John in curiosity, as John shrugged in embarressment.

"I dunno – criminal mastermind?" John grimaced, as Sherlock looked to Mycroft disparagingly.

"Close enough."

"For goodness' sake. I occupy a minor position in the British Government."

"He is the British Government, when he's not to busy being the British Secret Service—" Sherlock started.

"—Or the CIA on a freelance basis," Anna whispered along side him as he finished his sentence. Mycroft gave her a look that easily read ' _don't encourage him'_ , as he sighed.

"Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does to traffic." With that, Sherlock walks off- John following, before stopping and turning back to Anna and Mycroft.

"So, when- when you say you're concerned about him, you actually are concerned?"

"Yes, of course."

"I mean, it actually is a childish feud?"

"He's always been so resentful," Mycroft mused, watching his brother," You can imagine the Christmas dinners."

"Oh yeah, such fun," Anna commented sarcastically," I think the worst one was… probably ten years ago?"

"Hmm… yes, that was quite the… spectacle," Mycroft nodded in agreement.

"Yeah… no. God, no!" John said, half-turning towards Sherlock," I-I'd better, um…" He noticed Mycroft's assistant, her eyes still fixed on her BlackBerry mobile. "Hello again."

She looked up at him and smiled," Hello."

"Yes, we-we met earlier on this evening." She stared at him, almost like she had never seen him before, but was pretending to remember.

"Oh!"

"Trust me, give it up John," Anna said, shaking her head.

"Yeah. Okay, good night," John nodded, somewhat exasperated.

"Good night, Doctor Watson," Mycroft nodded curtly, as John followed Sherlock, who stood some distance away, until they began walking side by side.

"Sir, shall we go?"

"One moment—Annalise?"

"Yeah, yeah. I already discarded of it. Sherlock's lucky I know of his hiding spots," Anna frowned," If someone else from the Yard had found it- he'd be in deep trouble."

"You'll continue to look after him?"

"Of course, Mycroft. You're not the only one that cares for Sherlock."

"Hmm," Mycroft nodded silently, before looking back in the direction of the man in question," Interesting, that soldier fellow."

"He is—I believe he'll be a good influence on Sherlock, though."

"He could be the making of our brother – or make him worse than ever. Either way, we'd better upgrade their surveillance status. Grade Three Active."

"Sorry, sir. Whose status?"

"Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson." With that, the two made to get into their car, before Anna stopped Mycroft with a question.

"Hey, brother mine? Ever gonna tell me what level surveillance you have me under?"

"Good night, Annalise." Mycroft said, getting in and shutting the car door, before it took off into the night.

"Good night… Myc."


	4. The Blue Diamond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is a bit shorter than the others- longer than the first chapter, though. This is based on the written work "The Blue Carbuncle." Now, I had to change a small bit of it, to account for the Year (since Carbuncle is back in late 1800's/early 1900's) and Sherlock is 2010's. I changed the Carbuncle to a Blue Diamond- which depending on the carat, can be VERY pricey. As for the character names, I kept them the same.
> 
> Here, we do get to see some more interaction between Sherlock and Anna- and at the end, we see Sherlock is slowly raveling to a conclusion. Hmmm...
> 
> And, as for their chess match- I just pulled random moves out of thin air. It's not their entire match, so moves they made before John showed up are unknown- and the moves made afterward are... potentially valid?
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, just Anna.

Anna moved around the kitchen, waiting for the breakfast sausage to cook, taking care not to burn the eggs and stirring the pot of baked beans- as she waited patiently for her brothers answer. Sherlock sat in his normal chair, eyes closed- seemingly meditating in complete quiet. Behind her, Anna heard John walking down the stairs from the third floor and gave him a small smile as he walked into the kitchen.

"Morning, Dr. Watson."

"G'morning- how… how long have you been here? It's what… not even 7?"

"Just before Five Thirty," she answered, as John noticed Sherlock.

"How long has he been like that?"

"Five Forty-five."

"Knight E1." Sherlock's voice spoke up, as Anna looked over at him, before seemingly begin to think.

"Come again?" John asked, but Sherlock and Anna both seemed to ignore him.

As she stirred the beans once more, Anna responded to Sherlock," Bishop G6."

"I'm lost."

"Oh, sorry Dr. Watson—"

"John, please."

"John," Anna amended," Sherlock and I are playing Chess. Typically do, anytime I come over to cook him breakfast."

"Chess?" John questioned, looking around the flat," But I don't see a board?"

"Because we don't have one—a physical one, anyway. All up here," Anna explained, tapping a finger to her head.

"Of course it is," John muttered, reaching for a coffee cup, before commenting," Smells good."

"Thank you. No worry—I make enough for everyone, even Mrs. Hudson."

"Rook E2."

John stood off to the side, leaning against the wall, watching the siblings play their mental chess game with curiosity.

"Queen F8. Check."

Looking over to Sherlock, John saw his face contort slightly, eyes still closed. "How long does this normally…?"

"Hmmm… depends on how we're feeling. Sometimes it only goes for half hour, sometimes two or three. We're nearing the end of it now, though," Anna told him, reaching up into a cupboard to grab plates," Two more moves and I—"

"Bishop D5. Check. Mate." Anna stopped mid-sentence, her head snapping towards Sherlock as she stared at him for a few silent moments, her mouth slightly agape. John saw Sherlock's grin grow as he opened his eyes to watch his sister.

"Damn it!" Anna fumed, frowning in irritation," I was so close!"

"Not close enough," Sherlock told her," Maybe—one day, you might—might—get there."

"Yeah yeah," Anna muttered under her breath, scooping food onto the plates," Don't you forget—I beat Mycroft when I was ten!"

"Not once since."

"Oh, shut up you," Anna frowned, shoving a plate rather gently towards her brother as he entered the kitchen.

"When did you get here?" Sherlock asked John, who was sipping his coffee- still leaning against the wall.

"Ten minutes ago?"

"Ah…" With that, Sherlock grabbed a fork and sat down at the table in the main room.

"Here you go John, eat up," Anna told him, handing a plate to the doctor, before sliding past him," Take this to Mrs. Hudson- then scarf my food and then rush off to work. Yay." As she walked down the steps, she heard John's voice.

"What's this shabby hat?"

"A case."

Five minutes later, the three sat at the small table eating breakfast- Sherlock having explained the case to the both of them. Some ruffians had assailed a drunken man the night previous, before a copper named Peterson had rushed forward to help. All the people involved- including the victim—had taken off when they saw Peterson's uniform. The victim had also dropped his packaged Goose and hat when he ran off- and the copper had brought both to Sherlock. Now, Sherlock had a shabby hat and Peterson had a Goose to cook.

As they eat, a man quickly burst into the room, eyes wide as he walked towards them.

"Mr. Holmes! I—I found this—in the—the Goose!" The man—apparently Peterson—held out a gleaming blue gem towards Sherlock, who quickly stood up from his seat, causing the chair to tip over backwards.

"Sherlock?" Anna asked, setting her fork down," What is it?"

"Lady Joanna or Morcar had her blue diamond stolen five days previous. This- is her blue diamond, worth over 2.7 million euro," Sherlock breathed, reaching out and grabbing it from the copper.

"Two point- I'm sorry, did you just say- 2.7 million?" John questioned. Sherlock shot him a look, but otherwise chose to ignore his question.

"They arrested someone for that though- Horner, right?" Anna mentioned, standing up and walking over to her brother.

"John Horner. He had a small job in the hotel—electric panel malfunction—near Lady Morcar's suite," Sherlock answered, turning the gem over and over in his hands as he studied it," The alarm was raised by the upper attendant, James Ryder."

"Right," Anna nodded," Look—let me take that with me. I'll drop it off to Lestrade on my way to the lab."

"Maybe you could run some tests on it?" John questioned.

"Perhaps—fingerprints or touch DNA—but the chances of a pertinent hit are very slim," Anna told him," Still, I can give it a try. Never know." She grabbed a plastic bag from the kitchen and Sherlock dropped the gem into it, before she zipped it closed. "I'll run the tests—probably call Mycroft and let him know of this—before giving it to Lestrade. I'll call you later with the results." She gave a small nod to all three, before walking out the room—the heavy weight of 2.7 million in her pocket.

0o0o

Two hours later, Anna had the results of the Diamond testing—and after calling Mycroft when she got into the lab, he had quickly relieved her of said Diamond. Leaning her bum against the edge of her desk, she dialed Sherlocks number. As it kept ringing, Anna began to wonder if he would even answer.

" _H-hello_?"

"Oh, hey John- it's Anna."

" _Hey. Sorry, Sherlock's_ …"

"Mind palace?"

" _Yeah_."

"That's fine. Let him be," Anna shrugged," Just calling to let you know about Lady Morcar's blue diamond."

" _What'd you find_?"

"Absolutely nothing. No, unfortunately, there was no touch DNA—any that was there was contaminated by the Goose. Fingerprints were mostly Peterson and Sherlocks."

" _Right. Well, tried anyway. Give it to Lestrade_?"

"Nah—I called Mycroft when I got in. He showed up- personally- not even fifteen minutes later and took it from me. Probably already hand delivered it to Lady Morcar shortly after."

" _Of course_ ," John gave a small chuckle.

"Well, I best be going. Got a few other tests to run for active cases. I'll catch you next time, John."

" _Yeah—same_."

With that, Anna hung up and turned back to her desk, noticing another lab tech glaring in her direction over their computer screen.

"Oh—just get back to your own work Dennis," Anna frowned, as the male looked down to his screen.

" _Now, let's hope these fingerprints get a hit,"_ Anna thought, clicking a few times with her mouse," _Could go for some good news—and finding this killer would be amazing_."

0o0o

Two days later, Anna climbed the steps to Baker Street, take-away in her hands.

"Hope you're hungry boys- got—lun…ch…" Anna trailed off, noticing a scared looking man sitting in the client chair," Oh—sorry. I'll come back?"

"Not necessary," Sherlock told her," This is James Ryder. He was just explaining why he stole the Blue Diamond."

"I—I was?"

"Yes," Sherlock told him, piercing him with a glare.

"It's best if you come clean," John added, trying to ease the mans unease. Anna quietly walked into the kitchen and placed the containers on the counter, before leaning against the divider between the two rooms and listening in silence.

"Al-alright," James nodded," I—I knew about the diamond—Lady Morcar wouldn't shut up about it. So, Catherine and I… we figured we could take it—Lady Morcar wouldn't miss one gem."

"Who's Catherine?"

"Lady Morcar's hand maid," James explained," After… after the coppers arrested that other guy—I felt it was best if we hid the gem somewhere… away… from the hotel. My sister, she lives nearby. I went to her house and thought things over. I got a friend—out in Kilburn—he could fence it for me. But, I didn't want to lose the gem if I got searched by the coppers—and my sister had already promised me a Goose from her flock. So, I just… force-fed the gem to one of them? It—it startled though, and got away from me before I could tag it. When I… when I went to leave—I accidentally picked up the wrong bird. My friend in Kilburn—we opened the goose—but there was no stone—and tried to hurry back to my sisters—but… the other birds had already gone to dealers. So… I just—asked the dealers—but Breckinridge… he wouldn't budge!" At this point, James burst into tears causing Sherlock to roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Go."

"W-what?" James asked, surprised—as he wiped his face with his sleeve.

"Go—leave!" Instantly, the young man rose from the chair and walked to the door, before Sherlock called out," When the detectives come to you for evidence—don't give any against Horner."

"O-of course! Thank you, Mister Holmes!" With that, he ran down the steps and disappeared onto the street.

"That was rather kind, Sherlock."

"Yeah—but you sure it was the right call?" John asked.

"As long as he doesn't give any evidence against Horner, the charges against him will drop," Sherlock explained, seemingly bored already," He's too scared to ever turn to crime again- so he's no longer a threat of any kind."

John seemed okay with this answer, as he leaned back in his chair.

"So… food, anyone?" Anna asked, turning back to the kitchen," Snooze you lose- I'm not waiting."

"Yeah- sounds good," John nodded, getting back up from his chair to join her in the kitchen. Sherlock stayed in his chair, watching the two of them interact- the gears in his head trying to place together what was going on.

" _Friends?... More than friends?._.."


	5. The Blind Banker part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who's ready for some more D.N.A? Yeah?
> 
> So this one we get to know a bit more about Anna, her past- how she feels. Stuff like that.
> 
> PLUS- we get an explanation to the title of the fic! Yay!
> 
> Plus, I had some fun with all the forensic terms. I'm 95 percent sure I got it all correct. In the chance I got something wrong, I apologize.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, just Anna (And Leslie, seen in this chapter)

" _Holmes! We need these hair samples analyzed to make this arrest_!"

" _Don't forget to check this fabric for any Explosives trace. Need it ASAP_."

" _Have you run those fingerprints yet? I needed them yesterday, Holmes_."

" _I need a ballistics report done—test this gun for a match."_

" _Did you submit that Fiber Analysis report yet_?"

Anna stood at her lab table, hands clutching the edges of the metal, her head hung as she tried to keep a level head. Eyes closed; she took deep breaths trying desperately just to remember to breathe. The normal onslaught of inquiries to her was nothing new; detectives knew they could go to her and have their results done in a timely manner. But this week? Today? All Anna wanted to do was stay at home in her flat, crawl into a dark corner of her room and forget the world outside existed.

But she couldn't. The world wouldn't let her.

"—lmes- Holmes!"

"What?!" Anna exclaimed, her head snapping up and fixing the other lab tech with a killer glare. He shrank back- only slightly- but stood his ground.

"The Mass-Spec has been beeping at you the past ten minutes! Get your results so others can use the machine."

Her knuckles white from the death grip on her table, she released her hold and stalked over to the mass-spectrometer and grabbed her analysis reports. Heading back to her table she slammed the papers down on the cold surface before wordlessly grabbing the coat sitting over her chair and walking out the door- ignoring the protests of the other lab techs.

"Bloody psychopath," one of them muttered, shaking their head at her retreating figure. As she left Scotland Yard, she brought her mobile to her ear and waited for an answer.

"Miller," a female voice answered.

"I—I… need," Anna choked out, trying to stay composed," Chat. Please."

"Anna? Is that you?"

"Yes."

"Alright—come on in. I had someone cancel so I'm free until 2." Without further word, Anna hung up the phone and hailed a cab, giving them the address as she got in.

**0o0o**

Half hour later, Anna sat on the long couch, head in her hands as her elbows rested on her knees. Her hands were dug into her hair and she unconsciously bit at her bottom lip.

"You're very… tense, Anna. Talk to me, what's on your mind?"

Minutes ticked by, as Anna just sat there, staring at the floor beneath her. Finally, she cracked," Week."

"Week?" a red-headed woman questioned, moving some papers in a book that rested on her lap," Last week of June… Ah, yes. I see."

Again, silence stretched until Anna almost jumped up from the spot on the couch and began pacing- arms crossed in front of her chest. Her brown eyes narrowed as the endless thoughts swarmed her mind. The same thoughts that plagued her mind every year at this time. It was a cycle that—no matter how hard she tried—it never ceased.

"Anna, I need you to talk to me. You know it won't help any to keep it in."

"It also doesn't help to talk it over, either," Anna mused darkly, keep her stare on the door.

"If you didn't want to talk, you wouldn't have come here."

More silence stretched until Anna's shoulders visibly slumped, her hands falling to her sides; turning back around, she walked over to the couch and sat down gently.

"Now, what's on your mind?"

"Everything, Leslie. Every single thing is on my mind," Anna answered, resuming her original position of head in her hands," It's like a broken record… just keeps skipping on repeat—no matter how I try to ignore it or work past it."

"How does that make you feel?"

"Irritated!" Anna exclaimed, standing up in a rush," Frustrated! Like—like everything I'm doing is a waste of time! Like… like I…"

"Like you… what?"

"Like I don't matter," Anna whispered, defeat obvious in her voice.

"We've gone over that before, Anna," Leslie said, leaning forward.

"I know we have, but—"

"No buts. Now, I want to hear you say it," Leslie interrupted, causing Anna to look over at her.

"I… I do matter. I… have people… that care."

"Good," Leslie smiled, leaning back in her chair," Now, in two days—with it being your birthday-"

"Please—don't—"

"Anna," Leslie frowned, causing the younger girl to quiet," As I was saying, with it being your birthday in two days' time- it's bound to bring up some unwilling memories and thoughts. To some, it's a day they are born—but to others, like yourself—it's the day that you were given up by your biological family. That single event pushed you into an endless cycle of temporary homes and fleeting faces."

Anna stayed silent, prompting Leslie to continue," That experience alone? Cast upon a young child? Is enough to cause even the best of us to have thoughts of being unwanted and cast away. So, I ask you—what is it about all this, that is causing you the turmoil that you feel? What—the past week—has been the major issue for you?"

Leslie let Anna think for a few moments, the silence stretching over the room. All you could hear was the 'tic' of the wall clock and the muted traffic down on the streets below.

"Well…" Anna slowly began, her eyes gazing unseeing at the chair across from her," I... I don't… I mean, this might not make any sense…"

"Try."

"Sometimes… it just feels… almost like I'm not there? Like I'm seeing everything, and I know—like, physically, I know—what I'm doing, saying—all that. But… mentally? It's like I'm seeing it from the side. Like someone else is in charge? I hear their voice every so often—and it worries me. The things they say…"

"How do you feel when this 'other person' takes charge?"

"My mind… it gets all fuzzy… like an older telly—with the static? Or a frosted glass window?" Anna tried explaining," No matter what I do though, I—I can't… concentrate. Like, normally—when my mind's all over the place, I can concentrate on one single thing—and I instantly am better. But when this… other being? Is in charge? Nothing works. And…"

"And?"

"After the fuzziness hits… then the paranoia does too, and suddenly I'm doubting everything and everyone. Even myself. Sherlock—Mycroft. Mummy. All of them. I doubt every single thing they do and say. The little static blips on the radio give me pause and I feel the unsettled feeling all over. It makes it hard to breathe—and sometimes I feel like I'm struggling to breathe—then the panic sets in and it's like an ice bath has just been poured over me from head to toe."

Still staring unseeing at the chair, Anna could hear the noises of a pen on paper- but paid it no mind. Finally, after a few moments, Anna looked over at Leslie—helplessness evident in her eyes- as she asked," What's wrong with me? Why—why am I like… like this?"

"Anna…" Leslie hesitated, seeming to choose her words carefully, before leaning forward a bit," There is nothing—nothing wrong with you. You've been through a lot at such a young age—things are bound to pop up due to it all. Couple that with stress from your job and irregular sleep patterns."

"But… if I sleep—then… then the…"

"I know, dear. I know. I'm just saying. All these factors combined? It's not going to make your life any easier. I would suggest getting away from work for a bit. Take some time off—some time for you. Do something you love to do—when was the last time you baked just for the enjoyment of baking? Or played the piano?"

"I haven't had…. Time…"

"Yes—you have had. You just choose to fill that time with more work. Now- about—"

A soft knock at the door interrupted Leslie, as she looked at the watch on her wrist. Standing up, she sent an apologetic grimace to Anna," I'm sorry, Anna. That'll be my 2-o'clock. We can try getting you in later this week, if you'd like?"

"Hmm? Oh… no—no that's okay," Anna shook her head," Thanks though… I'll… I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Anna nodded, trying to appear more certain," Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Leslie."

"Not a problem, Anna. I'll see you next time then." With a nod, Anna walked out the room and headed back to the last place she wanted to be right now. Work.

After knowing she was gone, Leslie looked up to her assistant, asking," Let Jeffery know I'll be right out for him. I just need to make a quick phone call."

"Of course, Ms. Miller." Her assistant closed the door behind her, as Leslie picked up her desk phone and called the number on Anna's folder. Three rings in, a male voice answered.

" _Hello_?"

"Mister Holmes? This is Leslie Miller."

" _What can I do for you, Ms. Miller_?"

"I'm afraid it's Anna. She came in for a last minute session. You told me to keep you updated on her status, especially at this time of the year?"

" _What have you found_?"

"Unfortunately, it seems her mental state may be dwindling- however, slowly. She mentioned to me today, about a voice that she hears, within her mind. The things it says worries her. When this voice takes over, her mind gets fuzzy and paranoia sets in- then panic."

" _Is the voice just in her mind_?"

"For now, it seems to be," Leslie nodded," Unfortunately, she also mentioned doubting everyone- yourself included, and even doubting herself. And…"

" _Go on_."

"She mentioned that she pauses whenever static blips on the radio pass through."

" _Hmm…"_

"You asked me to keep an eye on anything—but over the past seven years, it has slowly devolved towards—"

" _Yes, I am aware. Unfortunately, all of this. The paranoia… the night terrors… the mind capacity… it all stems from her biologic family, to which there is nothing anyone can do_."

"Do you want me to start her on some medication? Perhaps some Aripiprazol?"

" _No, let's not get her accustomed to too many medications. Last thing we need is for her to become dependent on them_."

"Very well."

" _If that is all, Ms. Miller_?"

"Yes, Mr Holmes, it is. Have a nice day."

" _You as well, Ms Miller—oh, and do remember. Our little chats do not make their way back to Annalise_."

"Of course, sir."

_**0o0o** _

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Anna kept repeating this to herself, as she walked through Scotland Yard with the reports that she had been hounded for earlier. As she handed them off to the detectives, she didn't even stop to talk to any of them—until she got to her last Inspector and handed him the ballistics report. Beginning to walk away, she heard him mutter," Holmes better not be right."

"Come again?" Anna asked him, turning around.

"What? Oh- not you, sorry," Detective Inspector Dimmock apologized," Lestrade's busy—so I got caught working this case with Sherlock."

"What case is it?"

"The one in question—a suicide, rather, apparent suicide. Your brother seems to think murder."

"He's probably right," Anna chuckled, causing Dimmock to frown," Hey—just saying. I know my brother. If he thinks something, its more often than not how he says."

"This guy was in a locked room—no one had a key. Doors locked. Up on a balcony with windows shut. No sign of anyone else in the flat. Gun in hand. You tell me that's not suicide!"

"Why's Sherlock say murder?"

"Well—I mean. Apparently, our victim, Van Coon, is left-handed."

"Lemme guess. Bullets on the right side?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Only reason Sherlock would base the 'suicide' on being a murder," Anna explained," Anyway. Must be getting back to the lab. Best of luck with the case, Dimmock. Working with Sherlock- you'll need it. Just remember—he's almost always right, so… just save yourself some breath and listen to him."

_**0o0o** _

The next morning, Anna walked over to D.I Dimmock's desk once more- yet another ballistics report in her hands.

"Here you go, hot off the press," Anna told him, handing over the report to his waiting hands," Ballistics report on your victim Brian Lukis."

"Any matches in the system?"

"Unfortunately- yes and no. The bullet didn't match the gun we found at the scene—but it did match the bullet from the Van Coon case."

Dimmock grimaced in annoyance as he stared at the report—then looked up in exasperation, muttering," Great." Anna looked over her shoulder and saw Sherlock and John walking their way.

"G'morning, Anna."

"Good morning, John—Sherlock."

"Are you—alright? You look tired," John asked, causing Anna to shrug in indifference.

"I'm fine, don't you worry."

Sherlock glanced to his sister, but kept quiet, before turning his attention to Dimmock.

"Brian Lukis, freelance journalist," Sherlock began instantly, pulling the D.I's laptop towards him and typing away," Murdered in his flat." Sherlock turned the laptop around- showing Anna and Dimmock the webpage on Lukis' murder the previous night.

"Doors locked, from the inside."

"You've gotta admit, it's similar," John said, as Dimmock scowled at the computer in silence.

"This about the Van Coon case from yesterday?" Anna asked, to which she got a nod from John.

"Both men killed by someone who can…. Walk through solid walls."

"Inspector," Sherlock stated, leaning over the desk," Do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was just another city suicide?" Anna noticed the young Detective Inspector squirm in his seat as he avoided Sherlocks eyes. Her brother straightened up with an exasperated sigh.

"You have the ballistics report, I suppose?"

"Mhmm," Dimmock nodded, glancing briefly at Anna.

"And the shot that killed him- was it fired from his own gun?"

"No," Anna shook her head," Was no match in the system at all for the bullet found— with the exception of the bullet from yesterday."

Sherlock nodded in silent triumph," No. So, this investigation might move a bit quicker if you were to take my word as gospel." Dimmock looked back at him silent as Sherlock leaned back over the desk, speaking quietly yet intensely. "I've just handed you a murder enquiry. Five minutes in his flat."

"Fine!" Dimmock exclaimed exasperated, standing up from his desk," Let me grab the keys from evidence." As he disappeared, Anna turned a slightly amused look to her brother and his new friend.

"Sherlock," Anna drawled out his name, as he turned his attention to her," Play. Nice."

_**0o0o** _

"—stopping here?" Anna turned around at the sound of the voice.

"Ah, John. Sherlock. Nice to see you again, so soon too. What can I do for you?"

"Can you—er—get any—thing. Off this?" Sherlock rasped, trying to clear his throat.

"You alright Sher?" Anna asked, taking the scarf from him," Wait—this is your scarf—what am I supposed to look for, exactly?"

"Any—er. Any foreign skin cells. Identification."

"Right—what's this about?"

Anna turned around and laid the scarf out of the examination table but got no answer from either.

"Where about should I test for these foreign epithelial cells you got me look for?"

"H-here. And here," Sherlock pointed out, before turning to leave. Anna turned towards him and called out.

"Oi! You didn't answer—what's with the rasp in your voice?"

"Ir—errr—irrelevant."

"Seriously?" Anna asked, hand on her hip as she rolled her eyes at her brother," When it comes to family Sherlock, irrelevancy D.N.A. You know that."

"H-how long until that-ts done?"

"Shouldn't be too long," Anna sighed, turning back around and resuming her testing.

"Good. John, catch up to me then. B-be at the museum."

"Yeah," John nodded as Sherlock completely disappeared from the room. After a few silent moments, John broke the silence.

"D.N.A?"

"Should be some on here—if someone other than my brother handled the scarf," Anna nodded absentmindedly.

"No," John gave a soft smile," Just now—with Sherlock. You said irrelevancy D.N.A"

"Oh, that," Anna gave a soft laugh, looking to her side at John," It's something I've always told Sherlock—and Mycroft—since I joined the Holmes family. D.N.A just means Does Not Apply."

John nodded in understanding," Cute, I like it."

"Thanks—now, what did you two do- that caused Sher to get a raspy voice?" Anna asked, feeling her protective mother-bear mode sneaking up.

"No clue. He was fine before he went in the flat—then he came out minutes later wheezing."

"What flat?"

"Soo Lin Yao's. She's a connection we have on the Van Coon and Lukis case."

"Gotcha."

"We actually found out what the odd symbols being spray painted everywhere are—cipher, numbers."

"How'd you find that out?" Anna questioned as she put the samples in the Mass-Spec.

"Sherlock and I followed Van Coon and Lukis' steps to a Chinese store they both visited—on the bottoms of everything were the same sort of symbols."

"Ah, the Chinese Hanzi—interesting."

"The Chinese shop lady, she kept trying to sell us one of her knacks. A Lucky Cat," John laughed, causing Anna to laugh in return.

"What- and you didn't pick one up for me? I'm hurt, John," Anna teased, causing John to chuckle a little more. The Mass-Spec beeps as it prints out the results of a rather quick test, and after scanning the page, Anna shakes her head.

"Sorry—only epithelials on the scarf belong to Sherlock."

"That's fine. Thanks for checking anyway," John nods.

"Not a problem. Take care—and look after my brother, yeah?"

"Of course."

_**0o0o** _

Anna and D.I Dimmock arrived at 221 Baker street and after being let in by Mrs. Hudson they hurried up the steps.

"We found these, at the museum," Dimmock said, holding an evidence bag towards John," Is this your writing?"

"Uh, we hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us," John grimaced, accepting the bag from Dimmock, who nodded and turned his attention to Sherlock. Anna had taken one look around and instantly started nosing around in a crate full of books.

"Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?" Dimmock asked, a bit hopeful.

"Some silence right now would be marvellous," Sherlock muttered, without even looking up at the younger man. Dimmock looked over to John, who shook his head apologetically- then over to Anna who gave him an apologetic look of her own.

"Thank you, Dimmock—but I think we've got it from here," Anna told him," We'll let you know if anything more comes up."

With a nod, Dimmock left the room and disappeared down the steps.

"What'd I say about playing nice, Sherlock?" Anna questioned him.

"Was playing nice," Sherlock muttered, keeping his attention on the books.

"Sure you were," Anna playfully shot back," So- what are we doing? I'll help."

"The cipher has to be a book that everyone owns-" John explained, as Sherlock kept racking through books in silence.

"So find a book both Lukis and Van Coon had, and hope it's the right one?"

"We're going through and looking for certain words, that line with the cipher- hoping they'll make sense."

"Gotcha. I'll just start over here then," Anna nodded. Minutes ticked by- and soon enough, an hour had passed. Then two. A soft beep interrupted the flipping of pages, causing Anna to reach down to her phone and glance at the screen.

"Lovely," she frowned," Looks like our newest forensics didn't show up to their scene—I need to fill in for them. Sorry, I've gotta go."

"T's fine," John told her, watching as she rubbed her hands over her face, seemingly massaging her eyes. "Are you—okay, I mean? You look more tired than I feel."

"Hmm? Oh- no, I'm fine," Anna shrugged," Just long days, ya know? Anyways, I'll be off. Good luck you two."

"Yeah," John nodded, waving a quick goodbye before going back to his book pile. Anna felt her brother's eyes on her, but said nothing.

" _Maybe he'll just… let it be,"_ Anna hoped, not really wanting to talk about what was on her mind. As Sherlock went back and forth between the books- he had to keep pushing aside the concern that kept rising up. He wasn't stupid- he knew something was bothering Anna.

" _Later,_ " he told himself, picking up yet another book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda an odd spot to stop, but it's about to hit the 'climax' of the chapter, so to speak, so- gotta stop it there before it ends up a SUPER long chapter.
> 
> Anyone want to hazard a guess about Anna? What do you think is "wrong with her" as she puts it?


	6. The Blind Banker part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I'd have this being 3 parts BUT it looks like that's what it will be. Oh well, it happens.
> 
> So, last chapter, we saw Anna was having a bit of a rough time. Sherlock, of course, picked up on it.  
> We saw she's in therapy.  
> We saw that a relative is behind it. ((Obvious as to who, isnt it? Guess away. Cookies to correct answer))
> 
> This kind of deviates from the actual episode, near the end. You'll see (if you're familiar with the episode and all).
> 
> Either way, enjoy!
> 
> * Also, I have a facebook page for my writing. I give update posts, chapter alerts, share photos for the fics, etc. Find me! LokisWinchester - Author/Artist
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, just Anna

The next afternoon, Anna stood at her lab desk, trying to keep her mind level and calm—but she was starting to lose.

"Of all the issues to arise, of all the times—this had to happen now?!" Anna frowned, ruffling through the mess of papers on her desk, while listening to the several machines beeping around the room. With an irritated sigh, she walked over to the Mass-Spec and began to push the right sequence of numbers, quieting the machine—just as her phone began to ring.

"Sher—I love you and all- but I really don't have the time right now," Anna sighed, holding her mobile between her ear and shoulder, as she walked over to the other beeping machines and quieted their endless beeping.

" _There's a circus in town. One night only_."

"Oh? Sounds fun—take John. I'm sure he'd get a kick out of it."

" _I'm taking you_."

"Sher—I don't have time to go somewhere," Anna frowned, walking back over to her desk and flipping through the papers," Our new forensic tech completely screwed the machines—in record time for normal-minded people, might I add. No one else bothered to stick around and help me fix all of this, so now I'm re-running test results and trying to salvage about twenty or so different cases. So, if this is something that doesn't mean life or death-"

" _Don't make me deduce you_." His statement caused Anna to pause, her hand stretched out towards one of the stacks of papers.

"Y-you wouldn't."

" _I would."_

"Bloody hell, you would," Anna sighed, dejectedly; hands rested on the desk in front of her as she hung her head in defeat.

" _One night, Anna. You can afford yourself that_." With a sigh, Anna straightened up and rubbed a hand over her closed eyes, taking a deep breath.

"One night?"

" _You have my word_."

"A-alright. One night," Anna said, caving," What's the address?"

0o0o

Anna followed Sherlock up the steps as she looked around at the outside decoration.

"You failed to mention that this was a _Chinese_ circus," Anna muttered in his direction," Some _coincidence,_ Sher."

"Never said it wouldn't be case related," Sherlock shot back, a small grin on his face," Besides, you're still going to enjoy the show. _You_ are taking time off work. _We_ are spending time together. Win win."

"Whatever you say, Sher," Anna chuckled, as they walked up the steps to a landing. As they did- she heard a familiar voice.

"—think so. We only booked two."

"And then I phoned back and got two additional tickets," Sherlock said, as they approached the counter where John stood. Anna noticed he wasn't alone, and inwardly groaned. "I'm Sherlock."

"Sherlock- you didn't."

"Er, hi," the lady said, shaking his outstretched hand.

"Hello," Sherlock replied, giving her his patented fake smile, before turning and walking away.

"I am so sorry John. I didn't realize you would be here," Anna apologized," Sherlock invited me earlier… kinda had no choice."

"Sure you had a choice. You could've come out tonight—or I deduced you. You chose to come out."

"Like I said—not a choice," Anna frowned at her brother, who waited at the steps.

"I'm going to use the loo real quick, I'll be right back."

"Same," Anna said, following along behind John's date- leaving the two at the steps to talk.

Sometime later, a group was forming the middle of a lobby-like room, around a formed circle near the stage. The curtains were closed on stage, a circle of candles laid on the floor. The dim lighting gave the room a bit of an atmosphere. No chairs were in sight, so everyone was standing, chatting amongst themselves as they waited for the show to begin.

John spoke quietly over his shoulder to Sherlock, turning his head so Sarah couldn't hear him," You said circus, this is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is….art."

"This is not their day job," Sherlock quietly responded.

"No, sorry, I forgot. They're not a circus, they're a gang of international smugglers," John quietly shot at him.

"You convinced John to come here for his date? Sherlock, you are unbelievable sometimes," Anna grimaced. Suddenly, someone began tapping on a drum, the rhythm holding steady and catching everyone's attention. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at John, who looked at him over his shoulder. With a glance to Anna, John turned his attention back to the front, where the circle waited. An ornately dressed Chinese woman walked into the center of the circle, her face heavily painted. She rose a hand in the air and the drummer finished playing. The woman walked across the circle to a huge covered object and pulled the cloth cover back, revealing an antique-looking crossbow held up on a stand. She picked up a long thick wooden arrow- showing it to the audience before placing it into the crossbow. Pulling a small white feather from her headdress and showing that to the audience, she dropped it into the metal cup. Instantly the arrow released and shot across the clearing—catching many of the audience by surprise.

Sherlock and Anna watched the arrows path as it flew— everyone else only seeing point A and point B. More instrumental music began, as the audience applauded- and a new character entered the circle. He was wearing chainmail and an ornate mask. AS he held out his hands, two men went over and began wrapping him in heavy chains and straps, then moved him to a board and chained him to it.

"Classic Chinese escapology act," Sherlock whispered, just loud enough for the four of them.

"Hmm?" John asked, as he and Sarah turned to Sherlock.

"The crossbow is on a delicate string; the warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires," Anna explained, her voice hushed. The woman loaded another arrow into the crossbow, as the men attached more padlocks and chains, pulling the chains tight- causing the warriors head to yank backwards against the board. The warrior cried out as the men looped the chains through solid rings attached to the board and secured him, as he cried out again. Once they finished and stepped away, the music playing built in intensity and a cymbal crashed unexpectedly. Sarah and Anna both jumped in surprise, Sarah clutching at John's arm.

"Oh, God! I'm sorry," Sarah laughed in embarrassment, taking his arm with her other hand as well. Anna saw John laugh along with Sarah, then smile in delight as Sarah let go with one hand- but continued to hold onto his arm with her other hand. In the circle, the show-runner picked up a small knife- displaying it to the audience.

"She splits the sandbag, the sand pours out. Gradually, the weight lowers into the bowl," Sherlock whispered once more. The woman done just as Sherlock predicted, reaching up with the knife and stabbing it at the bottom. Sand began to pour out and the warrior cried out repeatedly as he tugged at his chains. The bag began to lower, lowering the metal ball towards the silver bowl. The crowd watched in anticipation as the warrior got one hand free, then the other before he started tugging at the chain around his neck. The weight was getting closer and closer to the bowl and everyone (most everyone) began to fill with anticipation. The warrior cried out again as he continuously pulled at the chains and struggled to free himself.

The weight touched the bowl and the arrow streaked across the room. With barely a split second to spare, the warrior pulled himself free and ducked down just as the arrow thudded into the board behind him. Standing up, he cried out triumphantly as the audience began to applaud.

Sherlock began to sneak away, as inconspicuous as he could, catching Anna's attention.

"Where you think you're going?" she whispered as he passed by her.

"Taking a look around," Sherlock answered softly; she watched out of the corner of her eyes as he disappeared backstage.

" _Please, just be careful_ ," Anna thought, keeping her attention on the show.

"Thank God," Sarah breathed, as she clapped.

"My God!" John exclaimed, clapping as well.

"Not too bad, cutting it close though," Anna murmured as she clapped. John looked over his shoulder to the siblings but realized that Sherlock had vanished. He looked around the hall but didn't see him anywhere- and gave Anna a questioning look. She shrugged her shoulder at him, a soft grin on her face.

"Ladies and gentleman, from the distant moonlight shores of the Yangtze River, we present for your pleasures the deadly Chinese bird-spider." As she walked away, a masked acrobat descended from the ceiling, rolling through the air as the broad red band wrapped around his waist unraveled. The audience applauded as he stopped a couple feet above the ground, holding his body parallel to the floor.

"That takes a lot of core strength," Anna whispered," Tried it back in Uni, couple times."

Descending to the floor, the acrobat removed the band from his waist, split it and wrapped the two bands around his arms. Then he ran around the circle before lifting into the air and flying around the circle a few times. The curtain on stage began to billow in one particular spot, catching Anna's attention—as it did John, but he went back to watching the acrobat. Anna narrowed her eyes, as she watched the curtain.

" _Sherlock…"_

The acrobat continued his routine, rolling down the bands dramatically as the audience applauded. The curtains billowed once more, this time more forcefully. After a few moments, Sherlock came flying through the curtains, falling over the edge of the stage and onto the floor below. He crash-landed onto his back, struggling to get up-right in his winded state. Instantly, John ran towards the warrior as he raised a knife and prepared to plunge it towards Sherlock. John charged him, pushing him back against the edge of the stage but the warrior lashed out with one foot and sent John stumbling across the room. The rest of the audience began to flee the room- including the acrobat and the show-runner; Sarah stayed in her spot as Anna rushed towards the board and pulled the huge arrow from it, then raced towards where he brother was laying. The warrior stood above him, the wide-blade sword in one hand- focused on Sherlock- giving Anna the opportunity to slam one end of the arrow over the top of the warrior's head. He cried out in pain and before he can retaliate, Anna swung the arrow sideways and smashed it against his ribs.

Once.

Twice. The second blow caused the masked man to fall to the ground, grunting and near unconscious. Sherlock sat up, leaning forward to the warrior's right food and pulled his shoe off. The flower tattoo on his heel gave Sherlock what he needed- as he scrambled to his feet. John managed to get back up- only barely, as he too was doubled over in pain and attempting to catch his breath. John grabs Sarah's hand and Sherlock reaches for Anna, as they all hurry to the exit.

"Come on! Let's go!" Sherlock exclaimed.

Sometime later, the four of them were walking through New Scotland Yard, following Detective Inspector Dimmock to where his desk sat. Anna saw the rather bewildered look on Sarah, and the fact Dimmock wasn't in a very good mood was apparent to everyone.

"I sent a couple of cars. The old hall is totally deserted."

"Look, I saw the mark at the circus—that tattoo we saw on the two bodies: the mark of the Tong." Upon reaching his desk, Dimmock turned to face the others as John continued for Sherlock.

"Lukis and Van Coon were part of a—a smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole something when they were in China; something valuable."

"These circus performers were gang members sent to get it back," Sherlock explained.

"Get _what_ back?" Dimmock questioned. Anna looked to her brother, noticing as he bit his lip, looking away from everyone.

"We… don't know," John admitted hesitantly.

"You don't know," Dimmock repeated.

" _Ouch. Hit to Sher's ego, he'd never admit to not knowing,"_ Anna grimaced, knowing how much this had to be eating her brother up inside. He still seemed to refuse to look at Dimmock, who sat down at his desk.

"Mr Holmes… I've done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something."

" _He does? Aww_ ," Anna smiled softly, noticing Sherlock slightly lifting his head.

"I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have _something_ to show for it – other than a massive bill for overtime," Dimmock pleaded.

"Just… give us a bit of time, please?" Anna asked of Dimmock- before Sherlock had a chance to say something that would come off rude," I know my brother—he's capable of solving this. Just… a bit more time, is all he needs."

Dimmock looked between the Holmes siblings, then to John and Sarah, before sighing in resignation.

"Alright. End of day tomorrow, all I can give you. After that I gotta call it."

"Thank you," Anna gave a soft smile, as Sherlock wordlessly turned around and walked out of the room to the lift. Anna, John and Sarah followed, but a bit more slowly.

"You really think he can solve this?" John asked her as they walked.

Anna looked over towards him, giving him a gentle smile," Absolutely. One thing to know about my brothers- especially Sherlock. He won't give up on a mystery; if he hits a part that stalls him, like this? It'll just make him work harder. Though… that's when you really got to keep an eye on him… for his own safety…" John nodded in understanding as they reached the lift and an impatiently waiting Sherlock. __  
__  
After they all reached 221 Baker street and rushed up the steps, Sherlock immediately began staring at the pictures over the fireplace as he took off his coat.

"They'll be back in China by tomorrow," John frowned, as he and Sarah followed Anna into the room.

"No, they wont leave without what they came for. We need to find their hide-out; the rendezvous," Sherlock argued, walking closer to the photos, staring at them intensely. John joined him by the fireplace as they tried to piece the missing part together.

"Somewhere in this message it must tell us," Sherlock muttered, annoyed that he was missing something. Anna stood near the entrance to the kitchen, as Sarah stood off to the side- seemingly forgotten by the crime solving duo. Anna noticed that she seemed to be figuring out something to say, and after a while gave in.

"Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it."

"No, no you don't have to go," John shook his head, at the same time that Sherlock said," Yes, it would be better to study if you left now." John looked at Sherlock in disappointment.

"Does she?" John turned back to Sarah," You can stay."

"I can't concentrate with her here- she needs to leave," Sherlock shook his head, his eyes back on the photographs taped to the mirror.

"He's kidding. Please, stay if you'd like," John seemed to plead. Anna noticed Sherlock seemingly tense a bit, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Actually, John," Anna said, pushing herself off the wall slowly," It's been a long- very… busy… day. It's getting late, too. I'm sure the doctor has a busy day tomorrow? She should get her rest."

John looked to Anna exasperated as Anna gave him an apologetic grimace; Sarah looked past them to Sherlock, nervously deciding what she would do. With an awkward smile, she gave a nod- making up her mind.

"Anna's right, I have a lot of patients to see tomorrow. I'll be off then."

"I mean—oh… alright," John frowned," Let me see you off then." They left the flat and disappeared down the steps, as Anna went over to her brother.

"You owe me."

"But of course," Sherlock gave a brotherly smirk, as the two looked at the pictures together in silence for several minutes, before John came back up.

"Really? Come on," John questioned, holding his hands out in defeat.

"Sorry, John," Anna looked over her shoulder at him," I'm sure you know how Sherlock is by now. He needs to concentrate in order to solve this—having us around is more than enough, any more bodies around would only be a nuisance to him. I'm sure the two of you will have much more fun on your second date though—somewhere fun. Just the two of you—I assure you." She said the last part glancing at Sherlock with a frown.

The minutes ticked by as the three of them worked to try to piece things together. Pages flipped; images rotated. Anna saw the evidence bag that she and Dimmock had brought by previously after Soo Lin's murder. The squiggles on the brick wall were obviously a dialect and meant something.

"But what?" Anna wondered, before she narrowed her eyes and brought the bag closer to her brown eyes.

"Sherlock. John." Anna tore open the plastic bag and carefully brought out the paper so it didn't tear. "You didn't notice this before?"

"What?" John asked, as Sherlock wordlessly stood up and walked over to her. He took the paper out of her hand and examined it himself- realization dawning on him as he saw two words had been deciphered.

"Soo Lin, at the museum – she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it!" Sherlock exclaimed, eyes brightening up in excitement. "Nine… Mill."

"Does that mean 'millions'?" John questioned, squinting at the photo.

"Nine million quid. For what?" Sherlock wondered thoughtfully, before he raced over to where he had previously dumped his coat and scarf. "We need to know the end of this sentence."

"Where are you going?" John asked him.

"Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"

"At-at what?"

"Sherlock, explain with words," Anna reminded.

"The book! The key to cracking the cipher!" Sherlock exclaimed, brandishing the photo at John and Anna," Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk." With that, he was gone and out the door. John and Anna turned to one another, a silent debate.

"Don't look at me, I'm not chasing him around town."

"Good thinking," John chuckled.

The silence stretched a bit, before Anna spoke again," I'm starved- what about you?"

"Yeah, a bit. See what we can find?" John suggested, walking towards the kitchen.

"Oh, good luck there. All you'll find are experiments and expired food."

"What about the food you used to cook breakfast that morning?"

"Brought it with me from my flat. Sher never has groceries just around," Anna explained," Order in?"

"Sure," John nodded.


	7. The Blind Banker part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, with the final installment for The Blind Banker. It's the climax of the show (anyone who knows the episode will know what happens), I just slightly twisted it a bit to fit.
> 
> Poor Anna, in this chapter though.
> 
> Also, major Sher-Anna fluff moment happens (my heart cant take it).
> 
> Side Note: I just got an account on AO3, so I'll also be posting the chapters there as well as here. Plus, if you are interested, I have a facebook like page, where I'll be posting chapter updates, related pictures and whatnot. Feel free to look me up: Loki's Winchester - Author/Artist
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Criminal Minds, just Annalise.

After calling and placing their order to a local Thai place, Anna and John set about in comfortable silence. As Anna stared ahead of her, seemingly lost in thought, John decided to ask something that had been bothering him for a few days now.

"Anna, if you don't mind my asking—are you… sure… you're alright? Don't get me wrong- I haven't known you very long, but you just seem… different this past week. Is everything okay?"

With a resigned sigh, her brown eyes traveled to the doctor and she gave him a weak smile," It's… complicated."

"Boy problems?"

"Hmm? Oh no- not that… complicated," Anna gave a soft chuckle," No… it's just… This is the week that… that I was gave up by my birth family… Even now, I… I don't know why they…" A sudden knock at the door below interrupted them.

"Er… I'll be right back, yeah? We can talk more?" John suggested, to which Anna gave a weak nod.

"Sure."

John traveled down the steps and opened the front door as he rummaged around in his pockets, smiling at the man on the doorstep.

"Sorry to keep you, how much d'you want?"

"Do you have it?"

"What?" John asked, confused.

"Do you have the treasure?"

"I don't understand," John answered, before the butt of a pistol hit him on the side of his head, causing him to fall to the floor. Another man quickly swooped in and grabbed John, hoisting him over his shoulder, as the first one climbed the steps. Anna- having heard the odd sounds below, had gotten up to investigate. Rounding the corner, her eyes landed on the mystery man on the landing below and immediately noticed his gun.

"Where is the treasure?"

"The-?" Anna questioned, before realizing," _Treasure… these must be from that gang Sherlock's been chasing… What should I…_ "

"Where is he?"

"Safe, for now. Now, treasure."

"Sorry, don't know what you're talking about," Anna shrugged, slightly flinching as the man raised the gun and pointed it at her.

"Come with us or friend dies."

" _John…"_ Anna thought in dismay, before submitting herself and walking down the steps carefully. Her arm was yanked as they made their way out. Another mystery person walked out of the house behind them- a can of spray paint in his hands. " _Where'd he come from? I never even saw him in there…"_

"Get in." The man shoved Anna towards a van, as the sliding door opened- revealing a still unconscious John. She hurried in, crouching beside him and checking his pulse.

" _Steady… good. Hang in there John. Sherlock will find us soon… I know it_."

Not even ten minutes later, an elated Sherlock raced up the steps of 221 Baker street, calling out," John! John, Anna! I've got it!" Turning into the kitchen, his eyes scanned the empty room, taking note of the neon light above slightly swaying back and forth- but void of any humans. Racing towards the living area, he brandished the A-Z to the empty room.

"The cipher! The book! It's the London A to Z that they're using….!" Sherlock trailed off as his blue eyes landed on the yellow spray paint that covered the windows.

" _John…_ "

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sherlock looked towards the couch and felt his heart stop as he noticed Anna's jacket still draped over the couch arm.

" _Anna!_ "

The panic rose through his normally calm demeanor, as he processed what happened.

The Tong knew where he lived; they slipped in, took John—took Anna—and unless Sherlock found them quick, they were good as dead.

0o0o

Anna sat there in silence, helplessly watching the people around her. Two men, clad in all black; a woman, also clad in black- and wearing black sunglasses. Turning her attention back to John, she noticed he was beginning to come back to consciousness.

"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket."

John turned his head left and saw Anna tied to a chair, a cloth gag in her mouth. He saw the expressions running through her eyes-

Worry.

Panic.

Fear.

Three things he honestly never thought he'd see in the eyes of a Holmes. The Chinese woman from the circus walked closer to John, his attention going back to her.

"Chinese proverb, Mr Holmes." The darkness around them only lit by the flames surrounding the tunnel, illuminated everyone's faces enough so the confusion could be seen upon both John and Anna's faces.

"I… I'm not Sherlock Holmes," John told her.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it," she said, pulling his jacket open and reaching inside the pocket.

"Ow, ow."

As she pulled away, Anna saw the woman held John's wallet in her hand; she opened it and began riffling though, pulling out a few things.

"Debit card, name of S. Holmes."

"Yes; that's not actually mine. He lent that to me."

"A check for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Mr Sherlock Holmes."

"Yeah, he gave me that to look after."

"Tickets from the theatre, collected by you, name of Holmes."

"Yes, okay… I realize what this looks like, but I'm not him."

"We heard it from your own mouth," she told him, causing him to stop and look even more confused.

"What?"

" _I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone…_ " She quoted, as Anna watched the realization dawn across John's face.

"I s'ppose there's no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression." Fidgeting in her chair, Anna watched as the woman raised a small pistol and pointed it at John's head. John cringed away from it, panicking slightly, causing the woman to grin.

"I am Shan."

John looked back at her, surprised," You're… _You're_ Shan?"

"Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" Lifting her other hand, she cocked the pistol- causing John to cringe again, turning his head and whispering," Don't, don't."

Anna began fidgeting in her chair more, worried for his safety- causing Shan to glance over at her.

"Enough," Shan warned, the finger on the trigger slowly tightening, as she turned back to John. An ominous look was etched across her face. There was nothing more John could do, except to accept what was happening; he stared into the barrel of the gun and waited.

 _Click_.

Both Anna and John grunted as no bullets fired, causing Shan to smile smugly.

"It tells you that they're not really trying."

0o0o

Across London, Sherlock rushed over to the bookcase near the fireplace.

"Tramway…"

His eyes hazardly scanned the shelves, looking for a map. For the first time in many years, his mind can't seem to focus. His fear for the safety of his friend—his sister—clouded his control of mind.

"Oh, Christ," Sherlock muttered under his breath, cursing himself at the moment, until he found the map and yanked it off the shelf. Unfolding the map of London, he turned back to the dining table and unfolded it, spreading it on the table quickly. Running his finger over the many lines sprawled throughout, he finally found what he was searching for, stabbing his finger roughly on a spot," There!"

Sherlock grabbed his coat as he raced out the door, hailing a taxi as quick as he could.

" _If anything happens to them…"_ he thought, giving the driver the destination before pulling out his mobile and dialing the young Inspectors number.

" _Please… hang in there… If anything happens to you because of me…_ "

0o0o

Shan slides a clip into the pistol, re-cocks it and points it back at John's head, as he once again cringes away.

"Not blank bullets now," Shan grinned.

"Okay," John muttered breathily.

"If we wanted to kill you, Mr Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive," Shan explained, her face going stern," Do you have it?"

"Do I have what?"

"The treasure."

"I don't know what you're talking about," John repeated himself, exasperated.

"I would prefer to make certain," Shan said, turning away from him and walking over to a large covered object.

" _No…"_ Anna thought, recognizing the shape, as Shan pulled the cloth off- revealing the crossbow from the circus. An arrow was already loaded, the sandbag hanging from above. John sighed deeply as Shan turned back to him.

"Everything in the West has its price; and the price for her life…" Shan explained, as John glanced over at Anna," Is Information." The two men walked over and picked up the chair Anna sat in, causing her to give a muffled squeak of surprise. They walked her over to a spot directly in front of the crossbow and set the chair back on the ground, causing Anna's brown eyes to widen.

"Where is the hairpin?" Shan asked John, pointing the pistol at him once again.

"What?"

"The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West; and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr Holmes, have been searching."

"Please! Please, listen to me. I'm not… I'm not Sherlock Holmes! You _have_ to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for!" John exclaimed, tugging at his binds in a weak attempt to free himself.

Shan turned away from him, loudly declaring," I need a volunteer from the audience!"

"No, please. Please," John begged desperately, watching as Shan walked away. Anna was equally as helpless- her wrists slowly being rubbed raw from her attempts to escape her confines.

"Ah, thank you, lady. Yes, you'll do very nicely."

Anna gave what sounded like an annoyed response, narrowing her eyes at Shan in despise. The Chinese woman paid no attention as she took out a knife, reached up and stabbed the knife into the bag of sand. The small particles instantly began to pour out, lowering the weight to the scale. John watched on in horror, his eyes going back and forth from the sandbag and to Anna.

" _Sherlock…_ " Anna thought, as her eyes landed on the large arrow laying in the crossbow, waiting to be released. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she tuned out all her surroundings: the bag of sand, Shan, John. Memories of her youth began to float through her mind.

Going from 'home' to 'home' and constantly being returned to the foster system. The night terrors and the endless fear she constantly felt because of them.

" _I'll die here… never knowing my family…"_ Anna thought, as tears began to silently roll down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see her inevitable end. As she did so, however, she saw one face. Then another. Followed by two more.

"Sherlock… Mycroft… Mummy… Father…" Anna thought, as she recognized each one. Opening her eyes once more, she stared at the arrow point, as she recalled the last 17 years of her life- since she was accepted by the Holmes family.

_The feeling of finally having somewhere to call home._

_The night terrors keeping her up at night, Mummy trying to soothe her after them._

_Not being able to sleep after- and Sherlock staying up with her, playing Chess or some other game to keep her mind occupied._

_Learning to Ice Skate on the small pond out back from the Holmes residence._

_Watching over Sherlock's unconscious body the times he overdosed on drugs._

_Visiting Scotland with Mycroft and Sherlock._

_Being accepted at University and having Mummy and Father tell her how proud they were of her._

_Meeting Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade for the first time._

_Meeting Molly Hooper._

_Getting in her first row with Sally Donovan._

_Meeting Mrs Hudson and John Watson._

_Finding Sherlock passed out on the couch in the early morning and draping a blanket over him._

_The gentle smiles and small quips passed back and forth with Sherlock._

As the memories trickled through her mind, she realized that she wasn't going to die without a family.

" _I have a family. I always have. They might not be blood… but I love them. They love me. And these seventeen years I've been honored to be a part of their life…_ " Anna thought, the tears uncontrollably rolling from her eyes.

She wasn't even aware of everything going on around her. Sherlock had arrived, Shan had fled; John was struggling with his binds so much that he had fallen to the ground and was doing everything he could to free himself—or to save Anna somehow. Behind her, Sherlock wrestled with one of the Tong warriors, trying desperately to free Anna from her chair—to save her from impending death. The assassin kept Sherlock away though and as the sandbag neared empty, the weight closer and closer to the scale, John made a last ditch effort. Managing to get one foot free enough to kick it upwards- it connected with the crossbow, shifting it slightly. It was enough, that when the arrow released, it buried itself in the Tong assassin instead of Anna. A muffled cry of surprise left Anna, as Sherlock untwisted himself from the red scarf and quickly leaned down to finish untying Anna.

John watched from the ground- relief having flooded him that it was over, Anna was safe. As soon as she was free from the bonds, Anna flung herself at Sherlock, who wrapped his arms around her, soothing her the best he was capable of.

"It's all right," Sherlock whispered, as Anna burrowed her head into his should and sobbed freely. She let all the emotions she had held back over the past week finally flow free. All the uncertainty, the doubt—everything. Her hands clenched at his jacket, as Sherlock gently rubbed a hand up and down her back, whispering to her.

"You're safe now, Annie… I won't let anything ever happen to you… Ever…"

John watched- slightly in pain from the awkward position- but shocked at the amount of compassion Sherlock is showing. As he watches, he realizes that the two are much closer than most people probably give them credit for. A soft smile washes over his face as he watches in silence.

Sometime later, the police had arrived to clear up the mess. Anna, still curled into Sherlock's side- this time wearing his jacket- walked along side her brother and John. Dimmock was waiting beside a police car just outside the tunnel, and Sherlock pauses a moment to speak with him.

"We'll just slip off. No need to mention us in your report."

"Mr Holmes…"

"I have high hopes for you, Inspector. A glittering career."

"I go where you point me."

"Exactly," Sherlock answered, walking away with a protective arm still around Anna. As they neared the street, all three recognized a black car, seemingly waiting at the curb. The door opened and Mycroft exited- and much to John's surprise, he could see a look of worry etched across the eldest Holmes' face.

"I've come to take you back home, Annalise."

Anna tightened her hold on Sherlock, as if trying to silently fight the separation.

"It's quite all right," Sherlock whispered, giving her a chaste kiss to the forehead," You're safe. I'll see you in the morning." With that, he helped usher her into the car- and as Anna climbed in, Sherlock and Mycroft exchanged silent looks.

A single nod from both before Mycroft climbed back into the vehicle, Sherlock and John watched as the black car drove off.

"Let's head back to Baker street, shall we?" Sherlock asked John.

"Please," John agreed.

As she sat in the comfortable leather seats, Anna could feel Mycroft's eyes on her- though he said nothing. Yet. Minutes ticked by- before he finally did speak.

"How are you feeling, Annalise?"

No response.

"From what I gather, you were extremely lucky tonight."

Still nothing.

"Mummy wouldn't let us hear the end of it if something ever happened to you."

Silently, Anna burrowed further into her spot, her eyes staring out the window unseeing as the city passed by. With a sigh, Mycroft seemed to give up his attempts at conversing with her. Finally, they reached Seymour street- and Anna went to get out onto the sidewalk. Before she could shut the door, Mycroft once again spoke- but this time, his voice much different than usual.

Softer, almost tender.

"If you need anything… you know where to find me. Never hesitate to reach out." Finally, he received a response of some sort, as Anna finally looked him in the eyes.

He saw the unbridled pain in her eyes. The fear. The exhaustion. A single tear fell from her eyes once more, as a gentle smile lifted the corner of her lips just briefly. Closing the car door- Annalise walked the small entry path to the door, before inserting her lock pin and opening the door. Walking down the hallway to her flat on the main floor, Anna shut the door behind her and rested against it for several moments, her eyes closed. The silence stretched around her- which usually she couldn't stand the quiet, but now it soothed her.

The lack of sleep from the past week was slowly catching up, and after shedding Sherlock's jacket on her couch, Anna made to go to her bedroom before she stopped short. Her eyes locked on the fireplace mantel—where a Lucky Cat was perched. She knew for a fact it wasn't there that morning.

Was it?

Walking over to it cautiously, she saw a small note folded beside it; opening it- she instantly recognized Sherlock's scrawl. Reading the message, she felt more tears form at the corners of her eyes but tried holding them back. Walking back where her bedroom was located, Anna simply fell to the comfort of the bed- not bothering to change into her night clothes. Tears of love trickled from her eyes as she succumbed to sleep; Sherlock's note held tightly in her grasp as she slept.

" _Love is weakness, but when it comes to family, that Does Not Apply_."


	8. Aftermath Turmoil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we get to see the aftermath of Blind Banker. Things don't go well for poor Anna.
> 
> We also get an explanation to Anna's past, so there's that?
> 
> Plus, there's a bit of a Grenna moment? Not really... well, kinda? We see (kinda) how Greg feels, in a small... teensy... bit... Yeah, no? Okay. Sorry.
> 
> Also, no idea who a superior would be for the forensic techs, so I just went with all detective inspectors being a superior officer to them- since they technically hold a badge and all?
> 
> * Note: Leroy Roux is a randomly put together name from a name generator. If you know someone with that name = total coincidence.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Criminal Minds, but I do own Anna

The next morning Anna stood at her desk in the Forensics lab, reading over a report she had ran for one of the Detective Inspectors.

" _The fingerprints line up, but the DNA doesn't… why_?" she wondered, furrowing her brow as she pondered," _The only explanation that comes to mind is that we're dealing with twins… but there's no record of Leroy Roux ever having a twin sibling…"_

She was so deep in thought that she didn't even hear the door to the lab open- or register that someone was calling her name.

"Holmes—Holmes! Bloody hell—" Detective Inspector Lestrade narrowed his eyes as he reached her chair and spun her around," Anna!" The sudden movement caused a gut reaction of a surprised jump- her heartrate accelerating, having not expected his presence.

"Could you not do that?" Anna asked him, placing a hand over her heart, willing it to calm down. After the events of the previous day—paired with her emotional wreck the past week—the last thing she needed, or wanted, was more unexpected events like that.

"Well, if you'd answer me- I wouldn't have to," he quipped back, crossing his arms in front of him," What are you doing here?"

She knew what he meant, but instead played it off with a shrug," Working. What's it look like?" Anna turned the chair back around and started typing into a new database that hopefully would get her the answer she needed—the case depended on her finding the answers.

"No, no- not this time," Lestrade frowned, turning her chair back around," Don't think I haven't heard about what happened."

"It's nothing, Lestrade. Now, if you don't mind- I really need to—"

"Go home, Anna. You need time to process."

"No- I really don't," she argued," Look- I'm fine, really! All I need to do is focus on this case, if you wouldn't mind? The fingerprints and DNA—"

"Can be figured out by another tech."

"I've almost got it- Lestrade. I don't need to pass it on to another tech."

"Anna!" His voice was sterner than she was normally used to; he spun the chair around once more and kept a forceful grip on the armrests- boxing her in. The lab was quiet for a few moments, just the machines whirring in the background, as they stared at one another- until Lestrade broke the silence.

"You need to go home. Take some time off—"

"I'm fi—"

"Bloody Hell- Anna! You are not fine! The past week you've been out of it—we've all seen it! Every year it's like this! Top that on being held hostage and nearly killed?"

"I said I'm fine!" Anna exclaimed, standing up and causing Lestrade to back up a step. She could see it in his eyes though, he was becoming irritated—but she was annoyed too.

"What is it with you Holmes?!" Lestrade exclaimed," You are not the only ones capable of doing your jobs!"

"No- we're just the best at it! There's a missing connection and—"

"One of the other techs will find it!" he interrupted," You might not care—but I do! For God's sake, Anna—learn to put yourself first once in a while!"

" _He… cares_?" the thought gave her pause for a moment, before she shook her head to clear it," It's—It's not that easy!"

"Well I'm about to make it that easy—" Lestrade frowned," Take three days off, starting now. Don't come back until Friday—and no working off the clock with Sherlock."

"You can't be serious!"

"That's an order, Anna." He glared at her, crossing his arms in front of him once again," Now- your Identification card—you can get it back on Friday." Lestrade held out a waiting hand, and to keep from digging herself a grave, Anna bit her tongue and nearly slapped the ID card into his palm before brushing past him and stalking out the room.

"Anna—Anna!" He called out, exasperated- but she didn't stop to acknowledge him.

An hour later, John walked into 221B and began to smile as he saw Anna at the bookcase behind Sherlock- but when the older Holmes gave him a small shake of the head, John's smile faltered. Wordlessly, John walked over to his chair and sat down with the paper, watching Anna as she picked book after book out of the in-wall shelving unit and moved them around. His brow creased in curiosity as he watched her, his eyes dropping to Sherlock in silent question- but the man across from him stayed completely silent. Opening his mouth to question what was happening, the Army Doctor's eyes went wide in surprise as a very loud, strangled scream came from Anna—as the book that had been in her hands went flying across the room, smacking into the opposite wall with a loud thud before falling to the floor. John watched in shock as the normally calm Holmes glared at everything around her; her hands balled into fists beside her.

"Who the bloody hell does he think he is?!" she exclaimed as she began pacing the flat.

"Uh…-" John began, only to see Sherlock shake his head once more in warning, causing John to keep quiet.

"I'm doing JUST FINE! Then he goes and SIDELINES ME?! The NERVE of that GIT!" Anna yelled, as Mrs. Hudson hesitantly appeared in the doorway, holding a teacup and saucer in her hands.

"Anna… dear- why don't you have a cuppa?" Mrs. Hudson gently suggested, holding the cup towards the youngest Holmes, her hands shaking slightly.

"I don't. Need. A Cuppa." Anna glared.

"Please, dear… It-it'll help."

John watched with bated breath as Anna continued to glare down the elder landlady, before she gave a huff of annoyance and—as gently as she could in her irate state—took the cup of tea from her.

"Thank you," Anna bit out with a frown, flopping down unceremoniously onto the couch—and after taking a look at the tea, downed it all in one large gulp. Getting up, she walked over to Mrs. Hudson and pushed the now empty cup into her hands- before she continued her angry pacing. John noticed Sherlock slowly stand up from his chair, his eyes on his younger sister- as if waiting for something.

"It's like he doesn't even—even… ev…." Anna trailed off, her steps going unsteady, before she began to fall towards the floor. Sherlock caught her before she did, however, and carried her over to the couch- carefully laying her down. John watched quietly, as the eldest Holmes brother came into the room, tossing something at sherlock- who caught it and unfolded the material. Draping the blanket over their younger sisters' body, Sherlock quietly walked away from her sleeping form and re-took his vacated seat.

"What just happened?" John asked softly.

"I had Mrs. Hudson add a much stronger soother to the tea that she offered to Annalise," Mycroft explained, standing nearby.

"Why was she…?"

"Being a menace?"

"Well, I s'pose that's one way to put it, yeah," John nodded.

"Blame that on Graham."

"Sorry?"

"Detective Inspector Lestrade," Mycroft informed John with a sigh," He… ordered… her to take a set amount of days off- including not working along side Sherlock and yourself. Even took her work Identification card from her, which she can retrieve when she returns on Friday."

"Why was she so worked up though?"

"Our sister is very… headstrong. Believing- as she should- that she's the best for her job and the other techs are lacking in capability."

"Wonder where she gets that from," John muttered under his breath, earning glares from both brothers.

"Poor girl," Mrs Hudson frowned, a sad expression on her face as she watched Anna's sleeping form," Past week just hasn't been the kindest on her at all. Oh- I know. I'll get to preparing supper—her favorite! That should help cheer her up!"

With that, Mrs. Hudson disappeared down the steps, leaving the three of them with Anna's unconscious form.

"So she… always…get's like that?"

"Heaven's no," Mycroft frowned.

"Just when she feels the entire world is against her, the voices are out to get her, the shadows won't leave her be and she's mentally, emotionally and physically drained," Sherlock explains.

"Come again? Shadows—voices?"

"Ever since she was a little girl, Annalise has had night terrors that keep her from getting adequate sleep. One of the reasons a lot of foster families inevitably turned her away." That was one thing John could understand- as he still had nightmares about his days in the War.

"We've taken to calling the night terrors the 'shadows' – the voices are ones that she hears only very rarely. Static on the radio or the telly- voices that aren't actually there- but a part of her hears them. Luckily, she's smart enough to discern that they aren't really there and for the most part can completely ignore them," Sherlock continued.

"Unfortunately, once a year- everything seems to hit a high, all taking it's toll on her during the first week of July."

"The week she was put up for adoption?" John inquired, remembering they had very briefly discussed it yesterday—before being kidnapped.

"Plus the day she was born," Sherlock added.

"W-what?" John asked, eyes wide," She never mentioned it was her birthday!"

"Never does. It's a sore subject for Annalise, if you might be able to imagine," Mycroft explained," First of July, 1986. She was born at 19 minutes past 7. Exactly four minutes later, the paperwork was signed, giving up custody to the state effective immediately."

Letting this news sink in, John leaned back in his chair- not able to find the words to describe his surprise.

"Does she know—about her birth family, I mean?"

"No one does."

"Except you."

"Not even I, brother mine," Mycroft shook his head," Her file has been sealed- very effectively, might I add. I doubt even I would have the clearance to unseal it." Sherlock gave a small 'tch' in response, obviously not believing his older brother, but kept his comments to himself.

"Regardless, she should be much calmer when she awakes. Do try not to bring up anything that transpired, however, Doctor Watson."

"Got it," John nodded, as Mycroft gave one last glance at Anna's sleeping form before leaving 221B. A few moments passed in silence, before John had one more question for Sherlock.

"So that's why she's been so out of it this past week? The tiredness and general lack of enthusiasm?"

"Precisely why," Sherlock nodded in agreement," Every year, for this one week… her sleep lacks, due to the shadows; she feels abandon by her birth family and can not find out why- since the record is so 'sealed'. It wouldn't have been so bad…"

"If last night hadn't happened," John guessed, to which the Holmes brother nodded once more, his attention on his sister- before he jumped up and grabbed his coat.

"Where are you headed off to?"

"Bored," Sherlock explained," And can't very well receive a case from Geoff with Anna around- means I have to go to him. Coming with?"

"Hmm? No, no. You go ahead. I'll stick back… case she wakes up…"

"Suit yourself." With that, Sherlock disappeared down the steps, leaving John with a sleeping Anna. The army doctor gave her form a sad glance, finally being able to put all the puzzle pieces together. There was so much more behind that smiling face than he realized- but it made him appreciate her all the more.

"I'll always be there for you, Anna- if you need me," John whispered, before unfolding the newspaper, slowly reading through it as younger woman slept on the other side of the room.


	9. Improvement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My oh my. Poor Anna baby. You know what they say though- what goes up must come down.  
> Poor Greg got the brunt of it all too, it seems : (
> 
> It's okay. They kissy kissy and make it all better.  
> Not really.  
> Yet.
> 
> Question: Am I making Sherlock too... out of character? Like... I know normally he wouldnt be as caring and all, but Anna and he formed this close bond after she joined the family- and I just feel like he'd have a small teensy bit of emotion when it came to her? A caring side? I'm trying to incorporate that as minimally as possible to keep Sherlock true... Let me know?
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Criminal Minds, just Anna.

Slowly, her brown eyes blinked open- adjusting to the dim lighting around her. With a groan, Anna rose her hand to her head and gently massaged the side of her temple.

" _Where…_?" she wondered, slowly sitting up- using her arms to support her upper body as she turned around. To her immediate surprise, Sherlock was sat on the floor beside the couch where she had slept.

"…Sher?"

No response, which confirmed that he was away in his mind palace. Gently swinging her legs over the front of the couch and placing her feet on the floor- she noticed that her shoes were neatly placed beside the doorframe. The soft plush blanket she had been wrapped in moved with her, and quietly she clung to it- trying to remember what happened. As the gears in her mind moved to piece it all together, Anna jumped when Sherlock's deep voice rang out- gently stating a simple fact.

"Twenty hours and twenty-four minutes."

"C-come again?"

His blue eyes opened and looked over at her, as he explained," You were asleep for twenty hours and twenty-four minutes."

"Twenty-?!" Anna exclaimed, her eyes wide in surprise as she digested that information; dreadfully, she asked him in a soft voice," What happened?"

Her brother knew she was worried about her actions, but also knew the truth was the best for her to know.

"You went to work yesterday- Graham sent you home for 3 days. You ranted, we drugged."

" _We…_ " Anna thought, before realizing," You called Mycroft? Sher!"

"What's good for the goose is good for the gander," Sherlock narrowed his eyes. Of course he knew she kept tabs on him for their oldest brother.

"Fair enough…" she murmured, pulling the blanket closer to her body as her mind worked to remind her of yesterday's events. With a sigh, she asked softly," Why me, Sher?"

"Does not do well to dwell on the past, Anna," Sherlock told her, standing up from the floor and dusting off his pants before walking across the room to grab his coat," Besides. Bad things happen to good people."

She gave him a grimace, replying with," Well, I must be a saint- because shit keeps happening to me every time I turn around." He gave his sister a small grin, crossing the room in a few strides.

"Exactly—our family's own angel," Sherlock muttered, leaning down and gently placing a kiss to Anna's forehead. Her eyes closed for a moment, a peaceful smile on her face.

"Where you going?" She asked him, as he went back to the door and grabbed his scarf.

"You're hungry. I'm going for takeaway."

"Sher- you don't have to—"

"I know. Be back."

With another sigh, Anna watched him disappear from sight, before bowing her head and resting it on her palms.

"Why? Why did they give me up?" she wondered for the thousandth upon thousandth time in her life," Did they just… not want me? Did they know I would have… problems? Why… why…"

" _You might not care—but I do! For God's sake, Anna—learn to put yourself first once in a while_!"

D.I Lestrade's voice rang through her mind, as her eyes opened, and she stared at the floor in remorse.

" _He cared about me… and I snapped at him like that… Why? Why do I hurt those I care about? Every time…"_ A tear fell from her eyes, trickling down her face before dripping from her chin. Sniffing deeply, Anna worked to contain her emotions- deciding to take a shower while she waited for Sherlock to return.

An hour later, Sherlock had yet to return.

"Of course," Anna shook her head in moderate amusement. She should know by now how her brother is. " _He probably got sidetracked with a case somewhere_."

The sun was barely over the horizon though, and with a quick glance to the clock- she saw it was just before six in the morning. Subconsciously Anna chewed on her bottom lip- before noticing the book on the ground near the couch.

_A strangled scream came from her—as the book that had been in her hands went flying across the room, smacking into the opposite wall with a loud thud before falling to the floor._

Grimacing, Anna walked over to it and picked it up, gently brushing it off as she walked over to the bookcase behind Sherlock's chair.

"Alphabetical order by Title and by Author… Sorry Sher," she frowned, knowing that wasn't how he organized his books. Placing the book in the spot she meant for it the other day, Anna turned back around and looked around the empty flat.

" _I… I know what he said… but I can't just…" she thought, her actions still haunting her," I have to at least talk to him… Leslie said I needed to learn to talk it out… So… I will…"_ With a sigh, Anna slipped her shoes on and quickly exited 221, hailing a cab—before she could change her mind.

Half hour later, the sliding doors on the lift opened before her and her eyes scanned the near empty floor. Not many Detective's were at work yet, but she knew they would be showing up soon enough.

"I need to talk to him… before they all show up…" Anna thought, forcing herself out of the lift and walking around the maze of desks. As she approached the small office, her brown eyes fell to the floor- still hurt.

Hurt by how she had treated him. Lestrade had never done any wrong by her. He was a remarkable detective inspector; funny; loyal to his wife and his friends—his wife was another story entirely. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep her thoughts to herself, Anna found herself at the open doorway and hesitantly brought her hand up, knocking softly on the frame. Looking up, she caught his expression as he looked up from the paperwork on his desk.

"An… I—You still have a few days," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"I know… sir…" Anna nodded, her voice soft, as her eyes fell to the floor again; taking a deep breath, she looked back up to the detective inspector as she asked him," Can we speak?"

Lestrade saw the torn look in her eyes, how they were glistening with unshed tears and his resolve broke into pieces.

"Of course- come. Close the door," he said, standing up from his desk and walking around to stand in front of it. He leaned back against the desk, folding his arms across his chest and waited patiently. Anna closed the door with a soft click, slowly turning back around to face him.

"I—My actions yesterday… they were… uncalled for, especially towards you…" she began, trying to find the correct words," You were only… and I… you didn't deserve…" He watched as she fought with her words, but when the tears finally began streaming down her face- he broke even more.

"Hey, hey- it's alright," Lestrade soothed, reaching a hand towards her and leading her over to the couch, kneeling down in front of her as she covered her face with her hands. "You had a rough week- and after a near death like that? It's to be expected to lash out a bit."

"But not at you!" Anna exclaimed, not thinking about the words she was saying, as she rose her head and stared at him," Of all people—you didn't deserve to be the one on the receiving end!"

"Anna… rather me than—"

"Than who!? Sherlock?! He'd shrug it off! Mycroft?! Wouldn't faze him!" she exclaimed," You didn't deserve all that! You—you're…" Her voice trailed off, realizing she was about to say too much; instead, she carefully chose her words, whispering," You're the best man I've ever met, Greg Lestrade."

Silence stretched for a few moments, as Anna stared off to the side- afraid to look at Lestrade. Afraid to see the rejection in his eyes.

"Anna- look at me."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she slowly brought her eyes over to him- surprising herself to see not rejection—but kindness and empathy in his eyes.

"You—are by far, the best Forensics that New Scotland Yard has had the opportunity to hire. You're strong and unafraid to put someone in their place. You put up with Sherlock in ways I've never been able to understand," Lestrade told her, a soft smile on his face- before it went serious," But in all the years we've worked together- I still feel like I barely know you. I know you're brilliant. I know you're a workaholic. And I know that for one week out of the year- you seem so far away and distant."

"I—"

"No, no- let me finish," he shook his head, using his 'superior' voice," So, if being on the receiving end of your bad days means I get to know you a bit more- then I'll gladly be there for all those days. Promise me—if you need someone to talk to—you'll find me? Ring me? Something?"

They stayed there, staring at one another for a few moments, before Anna gave a nod of agreement.

"Alright," Lestrade gave a gentle smile, standing up and offering her a hand. As he pulled her up, he reached to his desk and handed her a tissue. "Now, regardless of this understanding- I hold to what I said yesterday. Three days off. Come back in two days and I'll give you back your ID card."

"Understood," Anna nodded, briefly looking out into the bullpen. There was a lot more people out there- and she even saw Donovan and Anderson standing at one of the desks, looking in their direction. Shaking her head to herself, Anna turned back to Lestrade, giving him a small smile.

"Maybe… someday, when we both have time… we can talk? We could just, go for a walk or something…"

"Could meet at the pub," He suggested.

"I—I don't drink, actually."

"You—what?" Lestrade questioned, perplexed.

"With the medication I take, Mycroft and I agreed it would be best to not mix with alcohol."

"Medication for what?"

"I eh… I take Aripiprazol… it eh, helps with my night terrors…" Anna explained, rubbing the back of her neck. Lestrade nodded once as he digested the information, briefly sticking his tongue between his teeth before replying.

"Good to know, no pub then. S'pose a walk in fresh air wouldn't hurt any."

"Right. Get you out from behind that desk," Anna remarked, playfully smiling at him as he narrowed his eyes- an amused smile on his face.

"Alright you- get on out of here. Days off, remember?" Lestrade said, raising an eyebrow as he put his hands on his hips- trying to look all boss-like.

"Sir yes sir," she joked, sticking her tongue out at him briefly; he rolled his eyes at her childish antic, before opening the door to his office. As Anna prepared to walk away, Lestrade called out to her.

"And I mean it, Holmes. If you need anything, I'm here. No matter the time or the reason." She looked over her shoulder at him, a gentle smile on her face.

"Thank you, Lestrade."

He gave her a brief nod, before she continued towards the lift- passing by Anderson and Donovan.

"Even when she's ordered to stay away, she still can't follow orders," Donovan quipped, causing Anna to glare at her.

"Oh, piss off Donovan. Maybe you should find a new boy-toy to get your rocks off, since someone is obviously not getting the job done."

"Why you—" Donovan began, but was cut off by her desk phone ringing," Donovan." Making it to the lift, Anna pushed the button and waited- not long though. The doors slid open and she walked on, waiting patiently.

" _Leslie was right… talking really does help_ …" Anna thought with a smile," _Now, let's… let's stop at the market. Grab some shop. I'll make supper for John and Mrs. Hudson tonight… as thanks—and apologies."_


	10. The Great Game: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annie's been through a bit, especially the past week, no?  
> Well, it's only just getting started, unfortunately.
> 
> I was going to use some more of the written works from Sherlock, lace them in between the episodes, but I think I'm doing fairly well with lengths here. Plus once I get to where Criminal Minds comes in, that will give more options of plots.
> 
> You'll meet a new character in here- a... supporting cast... if you will. If you have liked my facebook page, you'll know all about her by now.  
> Haven't followed me yet? Find me at Loki's Winchester - Author/Artist (link on my profile) for more updates and posts related to all fictions! Including upcoming ones, chapter updates, character sneak peaks and more!
> 
> Got some... interesting relationship development between Lestrade and Anna though. Let's see where that takes us.
> 
> I think it's high time we bring in our biggest villain, though. Don't you?
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Criminal Minds. Just Annalise, Leslie, Blakely Lockwood (met here), and Cheyanne Lockwood (met later)

Two days later could not come quick enough. For the first time in years, Anna felt refreshed and a bit more alive. As she made her way through the early-morning detectives two days later, the adopted Holmes had a distant feeling of peace that seemed to surround her. As she approached Lestrade's office, she noticed another young brunette within, seemingly in serious conversation with the Detective Inspector. With a gentle knock to the doorframe, both of them turned their attention to Anna.

"Sorry to interrupt, Lestrade…" Anna trailed off; Lestrade gave her a small smile, knowing why she was there.

"Just a moment, Holmes," he told her, before turning back to the other brunette," Feel free to take the empty desk out there by Dimmock. If something comes up, let me know. Any questions, Lockwood?"

"Thank you, sir," this new lady- Lockwood- said, her voice level and calm, almost rehearsed," No questions, at the moment." As Anna stood there, she looked over this new addition.

" _Late twenties, maybe early thirties… single, probably- no ring… no pets- or at least none with fur… American, by the accent- Damn it, stop Annalise."_

As Lockwood left the room, she gave Anna a curt nod, to which Anna returned, before Lestrade gave a hefty sigh.

"You were doing it- weren't you? Reading her?"

"What? No!" Anna frowned, looking at Lestrade out of the corner of her eyes, before crossing her arms in a huff,"…. Maybe…. Blame my brothers, okay!" He chuckled softly in response, before standing up and walking over to Anna.

"Welcome back, Holmes," Lestrade said, holding out his hand. In his hand was her Forensics ID badge, which she happily accepted from him, as he said," You've been dearly missed."

"Please, the other techs were probably happy I was gone," Anna rolled her eyes as she clipped her badge to her pants.

"Didn't say it was the techs that missed you."

 _Ba-bum_.

Her heart skipped a beat, as she looked up at him; he had a playful smile on his face, before it turned serious, a flush to his cheeks," I- uh. I know several detectives that prefer working with you. Forbes… er.. Jones! MacKinnon…"

"I think one of them missed me most…" Anna gave a soft smile, only causing Lestrade to go a deeper shade of pink," I should go say to him, no? Poor Dimmock, working with amateurs. Pity the man, honestly." She had to hold back the chuckle, as she walked away from a gawking Lestrade; it hadn't been her intention to actually go to Dimmock's desk, but he waved her over- relief washing over his features.

"Please tell me you're back," he begged of her once Anna was in ear-shot.

"Nice to see you too, Dimmock. I had such a lovely vacation- weather wasn't too terrible."

"Er… sorry…"

"It's alright, just giving you a hard time," Anna laughed slightly," But yes, yes I am back."

"Oh, thank God. Not a moment too soon, either- I've a case I desperately need your help."

"That's got to be a new record," the Holmes gave a chuckle," What's up?"

"The Northrop case- have you heard of it?"

"Can't say I have."

"Yesterday, got a call about a body. Young woman- Tracee Northrop. She was found down by the river, secluded spot under the bridge. Last time she saw seen by anyone; she was eight months pregnant."

"I don't want to ask—what of the baby?"

"That's the thing," Dimmock explained," There was no baby. Her stomach was carved open and the baby missing."

"Oh, you've got to be bloody kidding me! Someone took a baby?!"

"Looks that way, yeah," Dimmock frowned," We have no idea though- what happened to the baby, or who the killer even is. All we know is Northrop was bludgeoned by someone. Rock nearby was found- bloody and… brain tissue… all over it."

"What tests have been run?" Anna asked, dreading the answer.

"Here's the folder," Dimmock handed her a folder—a too-thin folder—with a grimace, and said," Please, help me out here. I'm desperate."

Silent moments passed, as Anna thumbed through the few papers, her brow furrowing deeper and deeper. Her glare rose from the paper to the young Detective Inspector- determination and frustration evident.

"I'll be back. Soon."

"Oh, thank God," Dimmock muttered, leaning back in his chair in relief.

Not even five minutes later, Anna rushed into the Forensics lab and straight to her desk with an evidence box she had grabbed from storage.

"Honestly! Complete utter idiots- the LOT of you!" she exclaimed angrily, slicing open the tape that held the box closed and rummaging through to find what she was after.

"Ladies and Gentlemen- a record. Not even ten seconds into the room from being gone for three days and she's already throwing insults," Anderson frowned, crossing his arms from where he sat at his desk. Anna fixed him with a glare before returning her attention to the evidence.

"If you lot had bothered to do your job like you're supposed to, then we could have exchanged pleasantries like normal co-workers, Anderson," Anna spat," But No! Your dull mind is so one-track that you don't bother to look at the wider picture, and because of that- this case hasn't been solved! There's an infant out there somewhere! Stolen from their mother! A mother that was bludgeoned to death! So _sorry_ if I'm not smiles and rainbows right now!"

"Anything I can do—"

"No! You've done enough damage already—by exactly doing nothing! Just keep quiet and let me work!"

"Tch. Just like a Holmes," Anderson muttered, rolling his eyes and returning his attention to the computer screen in front of him. Anna resisted the urge to throw something at him, instead pouring her energy into the case.

" _Hang on there, little one. I'll find you—and I'll find out what happened to your mommy. I promise you_."

Two hours had passed, and Anna was waiting on a final test to finish. As she waited- she brought out her mobile and dialed her brother—and much to her surprise, he answered—eventually.

" _Shouldn't you be saving the validity of the Forensics department_?"

"Already am, Sher. For the past two hours- been doing just that," Anna rolled her eyes," You back from Belarus yet?"

" _Late last night_."

"Anything worth your time?"

" _Definitely not_."

"Sorry to hear. At least you were able to experience the lovely Belarusian weather," Anna joked, to which Sherlock tutted in response.

"You're bored, aren't you?"

" _What ever gave you that idea_?" Sherlock sassed her.

"Oh, don't be like that, Brother Mine. I'm sure a case will come by you soon enou—" a beeping sound caused her heart to soar," Sorry Sher- I need to go. Reports finally done- now I can give Dimmock good news, find an infant and find the mothers killer!"

" _Sounds_ —" She hung up before he could finish, grabbing the report and quickly reading the results, her eyes going wider and wider the more she read.

"Oh- I got you now!" Anna exclaimed, grabbing the evidence box, the report folder and rushing out the door to the Homicide Floor. Minutes ticked by as she waited for the lift to reach her destination- and as the doors slowly slid open, she pushed her way through them, rushing over to Dimmock, who sat up in anticipation when he saw her coming.

"You did it?!

"That I did."

"Oh, I could bloody kiss you right now," Dimmock told her, before realizing what he said and clamming up," But I—uh—"

"Just shut up, Dimmock—here's the file," Anna shook her head," A chemical analysis showed that Northrop still had high traces of Polychlorinated Biphenyl in her blood- so she was definitely still pregnant when they killed her. Unfortunately, the blood around the lacerations in her stomach were not clotted—"

"She was still alive when they cut into her stomach?"

Anna turned her attention to find the brunette from earlier—Lockwood—standing nearby, looking disturbed.

"Yes," Anna nodded, turning back to Dimmock," Whoever tried to kill Northrop and took her baby- done so while she was still alive."

"Tell me there's good news," Dimmock muttered, glancing up at Anna hopefully.

"Oh, you better believe there is," Anna smirked," Whoever cut her open? Accidentally cut themselves. Whatever tool they used- they nicked themselves in the process. Northrop's shirt had two blood samples on it- her's and her killers. I ran it through the system and got a hit. Recognize her?" Anna asked as Dimmock flipped a page in the folder.

"Bloody hell—you can't be serious!" Dimmock exclaimed, shooting up from his desk in a hurry and reaching for the phone," That's the woman that called in to report a body! I'm getting a warrant called in now—Oh, Holmes, you are a bloody miracle!"

"Tell me something I don't know, Dimmock," Anna sassed him," Now- you go get that baby and arrest a murderer." Reaching for a pen on Dimmock's desk to write on the evidence box, Anna was aware of Lockwood approaching her.

"That was… amazing."

"Hmm? Oh, uh- thanks. Just… doing my job," shrugged the Holmes, then with a frown," Unlike all the idiot Forensics I have to work with." Suddenly, Anna's mobile begins to ring, and with an apologetic grimace to Lockwood, Anna reaches down to answer.

"Holmes."

" _Oh! Annie! T-there's been a—a terrible explosion! It's absolutely—absolutely dreadful dear! Glass and bricks-!"_

"Mrs. Hudson—calm down. What do you mean, there's been an explosion? Where?!"

" _Baker street_!"

Anna felt her heart stop and she couldn't breathe.

"S-Sherlock?!"

" _H-he's—"_ the line went dead, only increasing the dread that filled Anna.

"Mrs. Hudson? Mrs. Hudson! Dammit!" Hastily, Anna shoved her mobile into her pant pocket, grabbed the evidence box and ran to the lift.

" _Please! Please, be okay!"_

Half hour later, Anna had raced past the first responders and after explaining she had family that lived there- they let her by, and she raced into 221 and up the steps. She was out of breath by the time she reached the landing but paid it little attention. Rushing into the living space, her brown eyes darted around until the landed upon Sherlock, who sat in his chair looking irritated.

"Sher!" Anna exclaimed, catching his attention. He looked over to her, his blue eyes softening when he saw the state she was in; standing up, he braced himself for her impact, as she wrapped her arms around his torso and held onto him for dear life.

"Mrs. Hudson—she called. Said that there had been an explosion at Baker street—but the line was disconnected before—"

"It's alright," Sherlock murmured to her," We're all fine."

"No injuries?" Anna questioned, drawing back from her brother and her eyes looking him over.

"None, just an unending ringing in my ears," Sherlock verified.

"And John? Mrs. Hudson?"

"Mrs. Hudson is a bit shook up. John wasn't here when it happened."

"Oh, thank God," Anna breathed a sigh of relief as she sat on the edge of John's chair.

"Shouldn't you be solving a crime?" Sherlock asked her, sitting back down in his own chair.

"So not important right now," she said with a shake of her head," For what it matters- I already solved it. Dimmock's getting an arrest warrant for the killer and saving the baby as we speak."

Sherlock tossed her an appreciative smile," Whatever would London do without you?"


	11. The Great Game: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is taking a turn I did NOT fore-plan happening. Not sure how it'll turn out, but we'll see!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, but I do own Anna ( and Baby Natalia! )

Anna sat in Lestrade's office, cradling Natalia Northrop in her arms. New Scotland Yard had been waiting almost twenty-four hours for Child Protective Services to arrive, and it didn't look like they would be any time soon. Admittedly, the young Holmes had no first-hand experience with babies, so she was a bit concerned she would do something wrong- but thus far, out of everyone in Homicide and Forensics, Anna was the only one baby Northrop wouldn't cry and fuss for.

"I must be doing something right…" Anna thought, as she watched the newborn. Green eyes stared up into her brown; thin, wispy brown hair curled on top of the infant's head.

"Don't you worry about a thing," Anna whispered, "We'll find you a good home… Even if you skip around like I did… you'll find one, I promise. You're too sweet though… I'm sure you'll find a forever home quick and simple." The baby in her arms gave a sound that resembled a joyful giggle, causing Anna to smile down at her. "You won't have the hard time I did, I know it. Even so, if it does take time to find the correct family- it'll all be worth it. You'll feel down and unwanted until you find them- but when you do, it'll be like you belonged there your whole life. Everything will fall into place, just you wait and see."

From a distance, Anna heard Lestrade approaching his office- and after briefly looking up, she saw Sherlock and John in tow.

"No?"

"No. Made to _look_ like one."

"What?" John asked, incredulously. The reached the office and filed in- Lestrade sending Anna an endearing smile, as her brother and John gave her a look of surprise.

"Is that—where'd you get an infant?" John asked softly, walking over and cooing for the baby.

"Case we're wrapping up," Anna explained," Mother was killed- baby literally cut out from her stomach."

"You're kidding!" John exclaimed as his eyes went wide.

"Wish I was."

"I think the better question is why do _you_ have the infant?" Sherlock asked.

"She kept crying anytime anyone else would hold her," Anna told him, giving a sheepish grin.

"Annie's the only one Northrop is quiet for," Lestrade continued," Even those out there that have children themselves—Little Natalia just fussed and cried nonstop."

"May I?" John asked, inclining his head towards the infant.

"Be my guest, but don't say we didn't warn you," Anna chuckled, as John carefully reached out and took Natalia from Anna's arms. She began to make fussing sounds, before John started to gently rock her in his arms. Soon enough, those cries died down, and she was quiet once more.

"Well well, seems there's someone else that Natalia likes," noted Anna, leaning back on the couch to rest a bit.

"If the mother was killed, does that mean CPS is taking her?" John asked.

"Yeah, but they haven't shown up yet."

"Taking their sweet time," Lestrade frowned, hands on his hips.

"Can we—get back to the case at hand?" Sherlock asked, bored by the course of the conversation.

"Yeah yeah, Sher- go ahead," Anna waved him on, rolling her eyes playfully," You were saying, Lestrade?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. It was made to look like a gas leak. Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box – a very strong box – and inside it was this."

They looked down on Lestrade's desk and saw the while envelope, as Sherlock asked," You haven't opened it?"

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?" Lestrade quipped, causing Sherlock to reach toward the envelope.

"We've x-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped," Lestrade told him, just before his fingers touched the material.

"How reassuring!" Sherlock told him sarcastically, hesitating before he picked it up and takes it across the room to another table. Angling the lamp on it, he held the envelope close to the bulb as he examined both sides carefully. On the front, there was elegant handwritten words: Sherlock Holmes – by hand.

"Nice stationary. Bohemian," Sherlock noted.

"What?" Lestrade questioned.

"From the Czech Republic," Anna explained, as Lestrade gave her a small nod.

"No fingerprints?"

"None," Anna shook her head," Checked it myself."

"She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duo-fold – iridium nib."

"She?" John inquired.

"Obviously," Sherlock muttered.

"Obviously," John huffed softly, before his attention went back to baby Natalia, who was reaching out a small hand towards him.

Sherlock picked up a letter opener from the desk and carefully slit the envelope open. Anna watched carefully, almost with baited breath, as her brother peered inside the envelope and his mouth opened a little bit- as if surprised by the contents. He reached in and pulled out a pink Iphone.

"But that's – that's the phone, the pink phone," John said, shocked.

"What, from the Study in Pink?" Lestrade asked, causing Anna to look over at him briefly in mild surprise.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like…" Sherlock trailed off, before turning to face Lestrade as Donovan walked into the room and put some files down on Lestrade's desk.

"The Study in Pink? You read his blog?"

"Course I read his blog!" Lestrade answered," We _all_ do! D'you _really_ not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?" Donovan snickered loudly, causing Anna to glare over at her. Sherlock- whom was taking off his gloves also sends her a glare- as John pursed his lips in embarrassment. With a roll of her eyes, Donovan left the room as Sherlock turned his concentration back to the phone.

"It isn't the same phone," Sherlock continued, as Anna peered over his shoulder at the phone in question," This one's brand new."

"How do you know?" John asked.

"All the connection sockets have wear to them- they haven't been used," Anna explained for her brother, as he kept quiet and continued his inspection.

"Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it _look_ like the same phone, which means your blog has a far wider readership," Sherlock said, throwing John an accusatory look- the doctor choosing to ignore it as he paid his attention to Natalia. As Sherlock switched the phone on, it dinged- alerting a voice message.

"You have One. New Message."

All eyes went to the phone, as the four of them- minus Natalia- listened closely. The message played, but there was no voice, just sound. The unmistakable sound of the Greenwich Time Signal; four short pips followed by one longer tone.

"Doesn't the Greenwich Pips usually have five pips and then the long tone?" Anna questioned.

"Yeah," Lestrade nodded.

"Is that it?" John asked, looking slightly confused.

"No. That's _not_ it." Sherlock answered, sassily, as he examined a photo that was on the screen of the phone. Lestrade walked over, and standing beside Anna, they looked over Sherlock's shoulder at the screen.

"An unfurnished room… fireplace… peeling wallpaper and a mantelpiece mirror…" Anna explained what they were seeing, so John could understand a bit. He tossed her a slightly appreciative smile- to which she returned.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!" Lestrade frowned.

"It's a warning," Sherlock breathed, gazing thoughtfully out into the distance.

"A warning for what?" Anna questioned her brother.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's going to happen again," Sherlock explained, as he looked down at the photo again- before brandishing the phone at the others and going to leave the office," And I've seen this place before!"

"H-hang on!" John exclaimed, standing up in a slight hurry.

"Here-! You go, I'll take her," Anna told him, holding her arms out for Natalia.

"Right," John nodded, handing the newborn over to the youngest Holmes, before going to follow Sherlock out of the office," What's gonna happen again?"

"Boom!" Sherlock simply answered, turning back and raising his hands dramatically, before turning back towards the lift.

"You be okay?" Lestrade asked Anna, as he grabbed his coat.

"Yeah, yeah—don't worry. Been looking after her most the morning. Just go—look after my brother," Anna ushered the Detective Inspector. He gave her a nod, before disappearing after the other two. A soft gurgle caught her attention, as she looked down into the innocent eyes of Natalia.

"Never a dull time with my brother involved," Anna whispered to her," You hungry? Let's go get you something to eat, yeah?"

0o0o

With a roll of her eyes, Anna walked into the lab and glared at her brother- to which he ignored. John looked up and became mildly concerned.

"Sherlock—" she started, walking over to the table and standing across from him," I swear- if you don't answer him _soon_ —we're going to have issues. He's texting me now! To get _YOU_!"

"Sorry- who's texting?" John asked.

"Mycroft!" Anna exclaimed, her voice high- before she took a deep breath to calm down," Look- I can't have him texting me in order to get an answer from you—I'm busy with work and Natalia—"

"How's she doing, by the way?" John asked.

"Not bad, really. She's sleeping at the moment- got her a nice, safe place—tucked in Lestrade's office," Anna giggled, slightly zoning out," He's actually really good with children…"

A beep sounded through the room, bringing Anna out of her thoughts," I know that sound. No match eh?" Sherlock merely frowned at her, before returning to his microscope. A trill went off for another text alert, causing Anna to wordlessly glare at her brother.

"Pass me my phone."

"Where is it?" John asked, looking around the room.

"Jacket."

Anna saw John straighten up slowly, almost in disbelief- sending her an unamused look. She held up her hands and turned away from her brother.

"I've dealt with him for 17 years. It's your turn, Doctor Watson."

John stiffly walked around the table, slamming one hand onto Sherlock's left shoulder and roughly pulled open his jacket- rummaging around inside the pocket.

"Careful," Sherlock murmured, slight anger lacing his voice- as he didn't even bother to look up from the microscope. Anna bit her lip softly to keep herself from giggling, as John sent Sherlock a glare. He pulled Sherlock's phone out of his jacket and looked at it.

"Text from your brother."

"No surprise," Anna frowned.

"Delete it."

"Delete it?" John questioned, as Anna exclaimed at the same time, "Sherlock!"

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it."

Anna placed her palms on the edge of the table and hung her head in exasperation.

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eight times. Must be important," John said, as Anna looked up to see him closing Sherlock's phone with a simple snap.

Sherlock raised his head in exasperation, asking," Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?"

"His what?" John asked with a sigh.

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk," Anna explained," So, he must have went to the dentist recently- and is still healing from whatever they done to his jaw."

"Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story," Sherlock said," The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?" Immediately, his attention went back to the microscope- as John glared at him.

"Try and remember there's a woman here who might die."

"What for?" Sherlock asked, looking up at John.

"Sherlock!" Anna reprimanded.

"This is a hospital of people dying. Why don't you go and cry by _their_ bedside and see what good it does them?" Sherlock suggested, noting the looks of frustration and anger on both John's and Anna's faces.

Beep.

"Seventeen years. Always the same," Anna muttered, crossing her arms in front of her- as the door opens and Molly walks in.

"Any—oh, hello Anna," Molly greeted, before returning her attention to Sherlock," Any luck?"

"Oh, yes!" Sherlock exclaimed, triumphantly, as Molly came to stand near him. The door opened once more, causing all eyes to (briefly for the boys) go towards it. Anna stopped a moment to eye him.

" _Thirties… awkward… no—maybe? Hmm… I can't get a good read… He's cute though…"_

"Oh, sorry. I didn't…" he said, causing another thought to go through Anna's head.

" _Voice extremely flattering too… please… speak more_ …"

"Jim! Hi!" Molly smiled, as he made to leave- but she stopped him," Come in! Come in!" Sherlock briefly looked up, eyes scanning Molly before going back to the microscope.

"Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes—and his sister, Anna Holmes."

"Ah!" Jim smiled, as John turned towards them and Molly looked at him blankly.

"And uh… sorry."

"John Watson. Hi."

"Hi," Jim smiled, shyly, standing behind Molly slightly. Anna noticed his eyes were locked on Sherlock, almost admiringly.

"So, you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" Jim walked closer to Sherlock, causing John to step out of the way.

" _Oh, his voice. I could melt in that,"_ Anna thought, before taking a breath," _Get a hold of yourself Holmes_."

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance," Molly giggled, alongside Jim.

"Oh… great…."

"Gay."

Anna stopped short, staring at her brother while trying to keep from bursting out laughing at Molly's look of horror.

"Sorry, what?"

Sherlock raised his head, realizing what he just done.

"Nothing," Sherlock said, giving a false smile to Jim," Um, hey."

"Hey." A metal dish clattered to the floor, and as Jim bent down to pick it up Sherlock rolled his eyes- and John and Anna to face-palm.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Jim giggled nervously, scratching his arm as he wandered back towards Molly.

"Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at The Fox, 'bout six-ish?"

"Yeah!" Molly nodded in excitement. Jim stopped beside her, placing a hand on her back as he looked back at Sherlock.

"It was nice to meet you." An awkward silence stretches, before Anna rolls her eyes at her brother.

"You too, Jim. I apologize for my brother- he's one track minded at the worst of times."

"Quite alright," Jim smiled to her, before taking one last look at Sherlock then turning and leaving the room. Molly waited until the door was closed before rounding on Sherlock.

"What d'you mean, gay? We're together."

"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly." Sherlock said, looking over at her," You've put on three pounds since I last saw you.

"Two and a half."

"Nuh, three."

"Sherlock," Anna and John warned in unison.

"He's _not_ gay. Why d'you have to spoil…? He's _not_."

Sherlock gave a snort, before returning to his microscope," With that level of personal grooming?"

"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair _? I_ put product in my hair."

"You _wash_ your hair," Sherlock corrected," There's a difference. No- no. Tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around frown lines; those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear."

"His _underwear_?" Anna choked, before thinking," _I didn't even look at his underwear…"_

"Visible above the waistline – very visible. Very particular brand," Sherlock explained, as he reached for the metal dish," That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here…" He showed Molly the card Jim left," … And I'd say you better break it off now and save yourself the pain."

Molly stared at him for a moment, before turning and running out of the room. Sherlock looked after her in slight surprise, almost startled by her reaction.

"Charming, well done," John told him, sarcastically.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?"

"'Kinder'? No, no- Sher. That- wasn't kind," Anna told him, as he looked over at his sister," Molly seemed to really be interested in him. Imagine being interested in something—and then learning that it's more than likely a lie?"

Sherlock shrugged in indifference," Can't."

"Whatever you say Sher," Anna said, walking around the table and picking up the card with Jim's number," Besides- what if he wasn't romantically interested in you? What if he needed your help with a case, and this was his own… unique… way of asking for it?"

Sherlock merely gave her look of disbelief, to which she rolled her eyes—just as her phone rang.

"Holmes," Anna said, as she answered; after listening a few moments, and nodding she said," Alright. I'll be there right away."

"New case?" John asked.

"No- CPS is there for Natalia… I… I want to make sure she's in good hands… I… I know what it's like… being tossed around in the system…"

John gave her an understanding look, before gently smiling and saying," Give her a kiss goodbye for me, yeah?"

"I will—good luck," Anna said, motioning towards her brother—who had his head back at the telescope.

"Thanks," John muttered with a sigh. As Anna walked out the room, she absent-mindedly slipped her phone—and the card with Jim's number- in her back pocket. All that mattered to her right now—was Natalia's wellbeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do YOU guys think? Should she give Jim a call? Should a small romance start between them?


	12. The Great Game: Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for lack of update. I went on vacation- traveled cross-states (From Iowa to Ohio) to visit family that I hadn't seen in a year (parents, brother, etc).
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Surprised, there is actually some interest in a relationship between Jim and Anna - and it's actually kind of fun to think about. We shall see what transpires though.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own Sherlock or Criminal Minds, but Anna is alllll mine
> 
> P.S  
> I had to find a random lunch-date acceptable place. There will be further places that pop up, say... dinner date? Next chapter I'll list where the lunch-date is. I also do not own it

The next morning, Anna and John stayed to the living room of 221B Baker Street. The youngest Holmes occasionally threw glances to the divider to the kitchen and to the army doctor; John on the other hand kept pacing back and forth, throwing glances at the divider and muttering under his breath. To keep busy, Anna went through her pocketbook, taking out any old business cards or receipts; as she done so, she found a small piece of paper with a phone number and stopped to think—before realizing who the number belonged to.

" _Jim from IT…."_

"This case—Carl Powers. Any idea?" John asked out of nowhere causing Anna to jump; he stopped pacing and turned his attention to Anna.

"None," she told him with a quick shake of her head, keeping the number hidden from John's view," Back then—it was 1989? I was still in the States—and only three years old, mind you."

"Right," John deadpanned, glancing back towards the kitchen.

"Sherlock seems to know the case fairly well though," Anna noted, with a nonchalant shrug, looking back down at the number. Chewing nervously on her lip, she paused a moment before grabbing her mobile from her back pocket and entered his number into her phone and saved it. After some more pacing, John finally had enough and slid the doors open.

"Can I help?"

It was no surprise to Anna when her brother doesn't answer, but John doesn't give up.

"I want to help. There's only five hours left," John tries again just as his phone sounds a text alert," It's your brother. He's texting _me_ now."

"What's it say?" Anna asked, standing up from Sherlock's chair and walking over to her new friend.

"'Any Developments?'" John quoted, before frowning," How does he know my number?"

"It's Mycroft- it wouldn't do well to question how he knows what he does," Anna told him with a small chuckle.

"Must be a root canal."

"Would make sense," Anna agreed with Sherlock, leaning against the frame that lead to the kitchen, as John slid his mobile back into his pocket and walking into the kitchen.

"Look, he did say 'national importance'."

Sherlock gave a snort, not even looking up from his research as he muttered," How quaint."

"What is?"

" _You_ are. Queen and country."

"You can't just ignore it," John told him, his voice stern.

"I'm not ignoring it. Putting my best man on it right now," Sherlock told him, disinterestedly.

"Right. Good," John nodded, crossing his arms in front of him. Anna gave a playful roll of her eyes as she unfolded her arms and walked over to John as he looked to Sherlock in puzzlement. "Who's that?"

"I'll give you a good guess," Anna smirked, looking at him pointedly.

"Oh," John frowned, glaring over at Sherlock briefly.

"Don't sweat it, John. I'll head on over with you. Sherlock will want some alone time to figure _this_ —" Anna said, gesturing towards the counter,"—all out."

"Much appreciated. Uh… let me get ready real quick."

"Alright, I'll be downstairs when you're ready," Anna told him; John gave her a nod and disappeared upstairs to his room. With one last look to Sherlock, she shook her head and began descending the steps. When she reached the main floor, Mrs. Hudson peeked out from one of her rooms.

"Anna dear! How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks Mrs Hudson."

"That's good," Mrs Hudson smiled, wringing her hands," You had us all a bit worried dear. I don't think I've ever seen you that way, not in a long while."

"Yeah, this year was… bad… but, I'm in a good spot now."

"Good, good. Sherlock up to something fun?"

"Old case. First one he ever worked apparently. Cold case, too," Anna told her, while looking down to her mobile in thought.

"Sounds fun," Mrs Hudson told her, before asking," Is everything okay?"

"Hmm? Oh…" Anna said, looking back up to the landlady," I just…. I met someone… recently…"

"Oh? Is he a cutie?"

Anna took a moment to think back to when Jim had poked into the room, before nodding with a smile," Very."

"Better get on it then- don't want someone else taking him."

"That's the thing… He and Molly Hooper seem to be dating…"

"You'd be much more fun than Molly. No offense to her, of course, the dear just seems very… bland," Mrs Hudson told Anna.

"Right… Sherlock seems to think he's gay, based on some deductions he done… but I don't think he is. Bisexual, sure. But not completely gay."

"You hung up on him? Cant get him out of your head?"

"Kind of… plus, he gave Sherlock his number, so I'm not sure how into Molly he actually is…"

"Then I say go for it dear! Maybe this cutie and Molly aren't an official thing just yet. Maybe he's testing other waters."

"Right…" Anna trailed off, looking down to her phone once more.

"Take it from this old lady- go for it. You only live once after all." With that, Mrs Hudson disappeared back into the room she came out of earlier, leaving Anna there alone waiting for John.

"Only live once…. I know that all too well…" Anna thought, before taking a deep breath and pulling up a messaging app on her mobile.

" _Uh… hey… This is Anna Holmes… I know you gave my brother your uh… number… but he's not interested… perhaps we can chat_?"

Anna typed out and re-read it, pursing her lips and frowning in annoyance.

"No, no. Definitely not. Come on Annalise Marie. Try that again."

" _Hey, its Anna—Sherlock's sister. We met the other day? Perhaps we can chat- if you'd like_."

Steeling herself, Anna hit the send button, just as John descended the steps," Ready?"

"Yeah- let's go. Better to not keep Mycroft waiting."

" _Now… I wait… He might not even answer. Might not even remember meeting me…."_

0o0o

As they sat in the elder Holmes' sibling's office, Anna could help but shake her head softly in Johns expense.

"Really? A jacket and tie?"

"Err.. Yeah?" John nodded, uncertainly, as he checked his watch another time. Anna gave a small chuckle, leaning back to rest comfortably in her chair. The door behind them opened and Mycroft walked in, reading a report.

"John. How nice. I was hoping you wouldn't be long," Mycroft acknowledged, as John politely stood from his chair, then noticing his sister he added," Annalise." She gave him a brief nod accompanied by a smile as Mycroft walked around his desk and sat down.

"How can I help you?" Mycroft asked John, imperiously waving a hand at John to wordlessly tell him he could sit down.

"Thank you," John told him, as he resumed his seat," Um, well, I was wanting to…um, your brother sent me to collect more facts about the stolen plans, the missile plans."

Anna watched in mild amusement as Mycroft looked over his shoulder and smiled at the army doctor," Did he?"

"Yes," John smiled back, a bit nervously, as Mycroft fully turned towards him and leaned back in his chair," He's investigating now." Her older brother gave a sudden wince, barely noticeable, as a hand came the right side of his mouth.

" _Yepp. Root canal_ ," Anna thought to herself, and before she could help herself, asked her brother," Something… wrong? Brother-mine?" He gave her a small glare before John continued.

"He's er… investigating away."

Anna couldn't help the smirk that came to her face, as she tried to stifle any giggles. Mycroft lowered his hand, giving another smile obviously not believing a word John was saying.

"Is there anything you can tell us—them—whoever—about the deceased?" Anna asked, before John could embarrass himself further.

"Hmm… twenty-seven; a clerk at Vauxhall Cross – er, MI6. He was involved in the Bruce-Partington Programme in a minor capacity. Security check A-OK; no known terrorist affiliations or sympathies… Last seen by his fiancée at ten thirty yesterday evening."

"Right. He was found at Battersea, yes? So, he got on the train."

"No."

"What?"

"He had an Oyster card—" Again, Mycroft rose his hand to his face and grimace, before continuing,"—But it hadn't been used."

"Must've bought a ticket," John surmised.

Mycroft lowered his hand as he answered," There was no ticket on the body."

"Then…" John trailed off.

"Then how did he end up with a bashed-in brain on the tracks at Battersea? That is the question – the one I was rather hoping Sherlock would provide an answer to. How's he getting on?"

Anna glanced over to John, waiting to hear his response, as she tried to keep a straight face.

"He- he's fine, yes. Oh, and- and _it_ is going… _very_ well. It's um, you know – he's completely focused on it," John grinned unconvincingly.

"Very well. Keep in touch," Mycroft said, with obvious dismissal.

"Right," John nodded, standing up from his seat and looking over to Anna," Shall we?"

"You go ahead," the youngest Holmes smiled," There's something I must discuss with brother mine."

"Right. See you later then," John told her, walking out of the office.

"Well that was just difficult to watch," Anna giggled, as soon as she knew John was gone," It was almost like you're intimidating or something."

Mycroft rose an eyebrow at her playfully, before slightly moving his jaw with a small grimace.

"Root canal?" Anna guessed, only to earn a glare from her brother as he changed the subject.

"Now, what was it you needed to discuss?"

"Ah, yes. Case I've been working— the Northrop one. I want to ask of you a favor."

0o0o

The next morning came and with it, little progress on the Baker Street bombing. Anna sat in Lestrade's office, John and Sherlock there attempting to piece the puzzle together. Through out the entire night, she had kept check on her mobile- anticipating a response from Jim- only to be thoroughly disappointed.

" _Of course he wouldn't answer_ ," she thought once more, with a dejected sigh. Lestrade noticed her sadness and took note to ask her about it later before he continued with the case at hand.

"She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive the car and park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house." Lestrade looked over at Sherlock, who was standing- staring out the window. "Told her to phone _you_. She had to read out from this pager."

He tossed the pager onto his desk in front of where John sat, who picked it up and looked at it.

"And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off," Sherlock finished for Lestrade.

"Or if you hadn't solved the case," John added, causing Anna to give him a 'Really?' look, to which the doctor frowned slightly with a shrug.

"Oh. Elegant," Sherlock muttered, mostly to himself.

"Elegant?" John questioned, frowning in disappointment at his friend.

"But what was the point? Why would anyone _do_ this?"

"Oh – I cant be the only person in the world that gets bored," Sherlock replied, causing Anna to quip in response," Sherlock—normal people here."

"Tch," Sherlock rolled his eyes, just as the pink phone beeps a message alert.

" **You have. One. New Message**."

As Sherlock walks towards Lestrade's desk, the phone sounds the Greenwich pips again, but this time there are three short pips and one long one.

"Four pips," John notes.

"First test passed, it would seem. Here's the second," Sherlock says, showing the photograph to the others. As Anna looked at it, she saw a close-up of a car with it's drivers door open and the number plate obviously visible.

"I don't recall any crime scenes like that," Anna frowned, just as a phone outside Lestrade's office starts ringing.

"It's abandon, wouldn't you say?"

"I'll see if it's been reported," Lestrade nods, picking up the phone at his desk, just as Donovan comes into the office holding another phone.

"Freak, it's for you."

Anna instantly stiffened, shooting a glare over at the Sergeant, as Sherlock wordlessly took the phone from her and stood outside the office. As John and Anna watched Sherlock and waited for Lestrade to get an answer about a potential abandon car, Sherlock spoke to someone on the phone. Frowning, Anna was getting a bad feeling about Sherlock's demeanor, so she quietly walked out into the bullpin and picked up a nearby phone, tapping into the same line Sherlock was using. Placing a hand over the receiver, Anna listened in on the conversation.

"— _ **never liked him. Carl laughed at me, so I stopped him laughing**_." John walked out of the office and stood beside Sherlock, looking at him in concern- and glanced over to Anna, who sent him a grim nod as she continued to listen.

"And you've stolen another voice, I presume."

" _ **This is about you and me**_ _."_

Anna listened closely and heard the background noises of traffic, which only worried her further.

" _Someone's in a busy spot of town, strapped with a bomb ready to go off- and a sniper trained on them. The slightly misstep could spell disaster."_

"—that noise?"

" _ **The sounds of life, Sherlock. But don't worry… I can soon fix that**_."

Anna heard the fear in the man's voice intensify and could only imagine what he was going through. The man on the phone cried briefly, before he continued with the message.

" _ **You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time you have eight**_."

With that, Sherlock's phone goes dead, just as Lestrade walks out of his office saying," We've found it."

"Go get him Sher. Show this… person… who's best at solving," Anna told him, as he gave her a nod.

"You coming?" John asked.

"Hm? Oh, no- I've got my own cases I need to work, unfortunately. Good luck."

"Thanks." John gave a nod, then followed after Lestrade and Sherlock. Just as they disappeared from sight, Anna heard her mobile give a small _ping_. Glancing at the screen, she felt her heart skip a beat from the message that she saw.

**Jim from IT:**   
_**Oh hi there. I'd love to chat. Maybe we can meet up sometime? -JM** _

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Anna responded.

_**What about Molly Hooper? Thought you two were a thing?** _

Glancing around her, Anna decided to head down to her lab and keep busy. The last thing she expected was a quick response.

 _Ping_.

**Jim from IT:**   
_**Oh, her. Honestly she's not my type. Don't see if going anywhere. Lunch tomorrow? I know a decent bakery. Floral Street. Say one-thirty? -JM** _

" _He's very… forward_ ," Anna thought to herself, as she leaned back in the lift, smiling slightly.

_You only live once._

Mrs Hudsons words kept coming to mind, so before she could change her mind- she typed out a simple reply.

_**I'll see you at one-thirty tomorrow.** _

The lift opened and Anna walked down the hall to the door to the lab she worked in, and just as she sat down at her desk, her phone pinged once more.

**Jim from IT:**   
_**Can't wait. -JM** _


	13. The Great Game: Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's slowly getting there. ha. Probably two or three more chapters before Season One is wrapped up. Then we hit the fun Season Two. Oh, that's going to be interesting to write.
> 
> Here, we get some more interaction with the transfer from America- DI Lockwood. I'm going to try integrating her a bit more often.
> 
> Also: Protective Older-Brother Sherlock in this chapter -heart-
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, just Anna. And Blakely Lockwood.
> 
> Note: If you have previously read chapter 12, at the end Jim suggests 'Brigits Bakery on Chandos Place' well- i had to change that. I asked for advice on a group I'm a part of, and a Londoner answered. Turns out that's some sort of bus that travels around while you eat/drink tea and whatnot? Either way- she suggested a few other places and I decided upon the one mentioned in this chapter. ((I did go back onto chapter 12 and fixed that, so you wont see it if you go back and look))

Anna, Sherlock and John sat at the cafés table, two of them enjoying breakfast before the long day. As John ate his cooked breakfast, Anna eyed it- comparing it to her light breakfast of a bagel and cream cheese.

"You could've ordered this, you know?" John asked her, a small smile on his face as he caught her gaze.

"No, I'm good with this…" Anna shook her head, taking another bite- hoping against all odds that Sherlock hadn't figured out anything yet. He sat beside her, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table waiting for the pink phone- which lay on the table beside him- to ring.

"Feeling better?" Sherlock asked, causing Anna to pause- wondering whom he was talking to.

"Mmm. You realise we've hardly stopped for breath since this thing started?" John replied, causing Anna to nod before going back for another bite of her bagel as she glanced out the window briefly.

"Has it occurred to you…?"

"Probably."

"No – has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope, breaking into the other flat, the dead kids shoes – it's all meant for you."

"Yes, I know," Sherlock answered, smiling slightly as Anna turned her attention back to them.

"Is it him, then?" John asked.

"Moriarty, you mean? You believe he's the one behind all this?" Anna questioned.

"Perhaps," Sherlock shrugged just as the pink phone beeped a message alert. Quickly, Sherlock flipped it open as it sounded two short pips followed by a longer tone, and a photograph of a middle-aged woman appeared on the screen.

"Who's she supposed to be?" Anna wondered, peering over Sherlock's shoulder at the screen.

"Could be anybody," Sherlock groaned, as John took the phone to look for himself.

"Well, it _could_ be, yeah. Lucky for you though, I've been more than a little unemployed," John said, handing the phone back to Sherlock. He stood up from his seat and walked over to the counter, and with a smile to the woman behind the counter he picked up the remote and switched on the small television hung on the wall. John flipped the channels a couple of times before finding what he wanted. The woman from the photograph is on the screen, partway through her make-over show, gesturing to someone just off screen.

"Thank you, Tyra! Doesn't she look lovely, everybody, now?"

"Who's she supposed to be?" Anna questioned, still uncertain.

"That's Connie Prince—Makeover queen," John explained as he sat back down," Have you never watched her show?"

"Never," Anna shook her head," Been too busy with other stuff."

"Right. Busy work, forensics."

"I do have other hobbies outside of Forensics, John," laughed Anna, just as the pink phone began to ring.

"Hello?"

Anna and John looked on in anticipation, before Anna nudged Sherlock's arm- causing him to roll his eyes before he put it on speaker, just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

"… a bit… defective. Sorry. She's blind. This is… a funny one. I'll give you… twelve hours."

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock asked.

"I like… to watch you… dance." The elderly voice on the phone gasped and sobbed in terror as she finished speaking. The phone went dead and Sherlock dropped it onto the table, before they turned their attention to the television screen.

"….continuing into the sudden death of the popular TV personality, Connie Prince. Miss Prince, famous for her make-over programmes, was found dead two days ago by her brother in the house they share in Hampstead…"

"Well, I guess I know where we're headed to next," John said, as he took a sip of his coffee.

"So be careful. Hampstead is a rich stretch, they wont like two random people stuffing their noses in things," Anna warned just as her phone beeped at her. Reading the message, she stood up and reached for her jacket.

"Looks like it's my turn. Got a case—" she said, reaching into her wallet- before Sherlock gave her a pointed look.

"What? I'm the only one with an income Sherlock. I'm paying my half," Anna frowned, putting down a few bills on the table before she shrugged her jacket on and reminded them," Be careful."

"You as well," John smiled.

"Especially on your…. Date."

Anna stopped short of the door, before her shoulders slumped and she turned around to see her brother smirking at her smugly.

"How?"

"More make-up than your usual- so obviously trying to impress a… _boy_."

"You are absolutely unbelievable," Anna shook her head.

"Anyone we know?" John asked, leaning forward on the table on his elbows.

"No offense John, but that's not really any of either one of your business. Good day," she said tersely, before stalking out of the café and hailing a cab. As Sherlock and John watched her leave, Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Oh, don't worry too much Sherlock. I'm sure Anna can take care of herself," John shrugged, getting out his wallet to pay for his meal and collecting the money Anna left for hers- to pay them together.

"Perhaps so, but she normally tells me who it is she's going out with," Sherlock frowned.

"Normally? Wouldn't that just make you more involved?"

"No—the fact she didn't tell me his name, tells me that she doesn't want me involved."

"Which means…"

Sherlock turned his eyes to John, a serious expression on his face, as he said," Which means I definitely need to be involved."

"Oh, she'll love that," John sarcastically said, frowning as he stood up to pay, leaving Sherlock there with his thoughts.

Half an hour later, Anna walked over to Lestrade's office- knocking on the open door.

"Ah, good- Holmes, I want you to work Forensics for Lockwood's case. This way she can get… well…"

"Used to how a Holmes behaves? A better idea on what to expect when she crosses paths with Sherlock?" Anna guessed, pursing her lips as she sassed the Detective Inspector.

"Exactly," he frowned, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, before turning to the other Inspector.

"Holmes is the best Forensics we have- she'll ensure we find what we need. Just make sure to get her what she needs—and if she should have an off the wall request, just go with it," Lestrade told her, reaching down to the file on his desk and handing it to her," Here is your case- do be careful out there, yeah?"

"Yes sir," Inspector Lockwood nodded, accepting the file and walking out of the office.

"Holmes?"

"Yes, Lestrade?"

"Try not to be too hard on her? We'd like to keep her around the yard as long as we can."

"I'm hurt, Lestrade. It's almost like you think I'll go into some Sherlock-like rant, deduce everything about her which causes her to second-guess transferring to London and decide to move back wherever she came from."

"Anna," Lestrade warned, exasperation in his voice.

"Oh, just come off it. I'm the well behaved one—remember that," Anna rolled her eyes, before walking out of the office towards the new Inspector.

"Ready?"

"If you are," Anna told her.

"Good- let's go. You can read the file on the drive to the scene."

"After you, _Inspector._ "

0o0o

"Three victims… three separate weapons… how are we gonna narrow this down, exactly?" Detective Inspector Lockwood asked, crossing her arms infront of her.

"Easily," Anna murmured, as she looked over one of the victims—throwing in," And it's 'Going to' not 'gonna'."

"What?"

"…. Nothing. Sorry. Habit I picked up from my brothers," Anna shook her head," Once more tests are ran, and I get the medical examiners report, I'll be able to tell you more—but right now? I can tell you for certain that this one—" she pointed to one victim, who seemed more out of place than the other two, off near the side,"—Didn't kill either of these two. More than likely, he actually died first."

"How do you know?"

"Well—" Anna began, before taking a breath and stopping her explanation, looking up at Lockwood," No—actually. Grab a pair of gloves and come here."

DI Lockwood gave her a curious look, almost hesitant, but grabbed a pair of the latex gloves and walked over to the Forensic Specialist as she put them on," Okay?"

"Here—what do you feel?" Anna asked, as she motioned to the victims hand. Taking a deep breath, Lockwood reached out and carefully picked up the deceased hand. She used her fingers to almost massage into the skin, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"Are those… broken bones?"

"Exactly," nodded Anna, as Lockwood set the hand back down onto the floor," Both of his hands are like that. No way he could have swung either weapon- or successfully used the firearm."

"So one of those two," Lockwood said, looking back at the other two victims," Killed him?"

"Or they both killed him and then turned on one another," Anna stated as the two of them stood up," I won't speculate though, not until I know more."

"Right," Lockwood nodded, before glancing down at her watch.

"What- got a hot date after we wrap up here?" Anna joked, as the DI looked up at her.

"Huh? Oh… no. No, I just… When do you think the tests will be finished?"

"Depends on how many I need to run and if someone's ruined any of the machines. Shouldn't take but a few hours though, if we're lucky. I'll get back to the lab and start, get the samples running," Anna told her, as they walked out of the building and towards their vehicle. As she was loading up her pack, Anna briefly looked down at her own watch.

"Now who's got a date after?" Lockwood stated, causing Anna to give a small chuckle.

"Touche' Lockwood." With a returning smile, the two got in their car and drove back towards New Scotland Yard. The closer to one-thirty that it got, the more butterflies Anna seemed to get.

"It's just a lunch-date… why am I so nervous?" she thought, looking out the window.

0o0o

After turning off Garrick Street, Anna rushed down Floral Street towards where she was supposed to have met with Jim almost five minutes ago.

"He's probably already left," she frowned, weaving through the crowd," _One of these days I really am_ _going to murder Anderson. That good-for-nothing_ —" Putting her thoughts to the back of her mind as she arrived near the outdoor tables, Anna scanned the area for Jim. Her heart began to sink when she didn't see him- before she nearly jumped in her skin.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

She turned towards her right and saw him leaning against the brick wall to one of the adjacent companies.

"No, no—I must apologize. My- _coworker_ —" Anna said, biting out the word with evident frustration," kept me. He botched a simple test and then knocked over some very delicate liquids, which of course I had to clean up."

"Not to worry," Jim gave a small smile," I can understand the… frustrations, with people."

"I'm sure being in IT you deal with people that are very oblivious."

"You've no idea," he smirked, before gesturing a hand towards the door," Shall we?" With a nod, Anna walked into the building and was instantly hit by the strong aroma's off coffee beans.

"Oh, that takes me back," she murmured, closing her eyes as she relished in the memory.

"Hmm?"

"Oh—back when I was younger, I briefly worked in a café. The aroma never gets old," Anna explained.

"That must've been fun," Jim said as they approached the counter.

"Can I help you?"

"Do you know what you'd like to order?" Jim asked Anna, completely ignoring the waitress behind the glass showcase.

"Oh, uh…" Anna hesitated, scanning the chalkboard quickly. Normally she'd order a strong expresso or mocha, but— "A chai latte and a… blueberry muffin, please."

"What, no cocktail?" Jim joked, a playful smile on his face.

"I'm on my lunch break at work," Anna reminded him," Besides, I uh… I don't drink alcohol- of any kind… Long story."

"Hot Chocolate with a Blueberry muffin and a Long Black with a Cherry bakewell tart," Jim ordered, briefly turning his attention to the barista.

"Be right out with it. Feel free to take a seat anywhere," she said, after Jim paid for their order.

The two of them walked over to a table near the window, and Jim drew out a chair for Anna before taking his own seat.

"Quite the gentleman," Anna smiled, a soft blush on her cheeks," Molly's lucky to have you."

She noticed his slight frown—just there for a split second—before he gave an off-handed shrug," Molly… she's not quite my type. She's nice…"

"But?"

"But—and don't get me wrong," Jim said, leaning in slightly," Naïve… and her heart is set somewhere else. Even I can sense it."

"Sherlock."

"You know it too."

"Who doesn't? She makes it so painfully obvious," Anna rolled her eyes," And for as brilliant as my brother is—he's terribly oblivious to most emotional connections. Especially those directed towards him."

"Long Black with a Cherry Bakewell Tart and a Hot Chocolate with a Blueberry muffin?"

"Thank you," Anna said, as the waitress put the items on the table between them.

"If you need anything, just wave me."

"No coffee?" Jim asked, watching as Anna took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate," It's all Molly ever seems to drink."

"Unfortunately, I—well, I can't drink caffeine. Found out—back when I worked at that café? Caffeine and I do not mix well together."

"Oh? Sounds like quite the story."

"Not really," Anna shook her head," When I worked the café I drank a good amount of the coffee, perks of working there right? Well, after a while, things just… seemed odd. It's hard to explain, actually. Almost… hallucinogenic, in a way? I felt weird, my mind was foggy—I hated it. So my eldest brother and I decided that I should just stay away from consuming any caffeine."

"I see—Molly has mentioned this elder brother of Sherlocks once… he's government, yeah?"

"You keep mentioning Molly," Anna noted, ignoring his question," Perhaps, I can give her a ring, have her meet you here for lunch instead?"

"I don't mean to insult you," Jim replied, seemingly enjoying the jab," I just don't know you that much…. _Her_ , on the other hand…"

"Well- what do you want to know?"

"You mentioned earlier not drinking—long story? Tell me more about it."

"I… well," Anna started, uncertain. She didn't tell many people about it. Aside from her brothers, John and Lestrade- no one knew she didn't consume alcohol. It couldn't hurt to tell Jim, right?

"I guess… It's not that long of a story. I take some medicines—and with my medical knowledge, I know it wouldn't be beneficial to mix alcoholic intake with the prescriptions. So, my brother and I agreed to just—stay away from alcohol."

"No caffeine… no alcohol. Your life must be so… boring," Jim frowned distastefully.

"On the contrary. Between work and Sherlock, I've got enough excitement to last a lifetime."

"What is it you do, again?"

"Forensic Specialist for Scotland Yard."

That seemed to really get Jim's attention, as he leaned his elbows on the table and placed his chin on his palms, looking at her intensely.

"Oh wow, now that's quite the job. Help catch all the bad guys. Dangerous, I presume?"

"Not really. Just go around crime scenes collecting stuff, go to the lab and run tests. Give the answers to the Detectives running the case. Rinse repeat," Anna shrugged as she tore a piece of the muffin off and placed it in her mouth.

"Interesting."

"Most days, yeah. Some of the cases… they stick with you though… some make you second guess yourself—if you're actually doing any good," Anna frowned, but then with a small smile she remembered baby Natalia," But sometimes… sometimes there's a light, something so innocent and beautiful that makes you realize that the work you do—it matters."

"How quaint," Anna heard Jim say, as she realized she had briefly zoned out," What are—"

Just as he was asking another question, Anna's mobile began to ring. She closed her eyes in moderate annoyance as she looked at the ID, before silencing it and placing it back in her pocket.

"Ignore that. What were you saying?"

"I was just going to ask what some of your hobbies were. Certainly you have fun somehow outside of Forensics?"

"Oh—yeah. I've always loved to cook and bake. Learned by helping mummy back home, growing up. Taught myself the piano when I was eight—used the piano from the music program at the school I went to. Took up ice skating when I was in Uni- just something to keep my mind going while relaxing at the same time. Sometimes when I'm bored I attempt new languages."

"Very impressive," Jim smiled," Which—"

Again, Anna's mobile began to ring- and with a roll of her eyes she apologized," I'm sorry, I guess I need to take this."

"Be my guest," Jim gestured, leaning back in his seat.

"What do you want, Anderson?"

"Your Psychopath brother is doing it again."

"Socio- you know what, I'm not even wasting my breath. He at the Yard?"

"Yes. Now hurry and deal with him. He's more annoying than-"

Anna hung up before Anderson had a chance to finish his sentence, pinching the bridge of her nose as she attempted to control her irritation.

"Time's up already, huh?"

"Yeah—I'm sorry. I've got to head back—"

"No worries. I'm sure you're a busy woman," Jim smiled to her," Perhaps we can meet up again some other time?"

"Oh, uh… Yeah. I'd like that," Anna nodded, finishing off her hot chocolate.

"Wonderful. How about The Greenhouse?"

"Hmm, can't say I've heard of it before."

"No? Hmm.. Bills of Covent Garden?"

"Sorry, still not familiar," Anna sheepishly smiled, rubbing the back of her neck," I don't exactly get out much."

"That's alright," Jim smirked back, tweaking his head to the side briefly—rather cutely, in Anna's opinion," I'll pick you up? Say… Six tomorrow night?"

"That's a bit soon, don't you think?" Anna asked, slightly surprised.

"What can I say? I quite enjoyed my company today."

"Well, now, how can I turn that down?" Anna blushed, ducking her head slightly," Six tomorrow night it is. I'll be sure to even turn my mobile off."

"How considerate," Jim joked, smiling as Anna reached for her jacket.

"I'll text you my address?"

"I'll look forward to it."

" _You and me both_ ," Anna thought, as she walked out onto the street once more and headed back towards Scotland Yard," _Now, to strangle a Sociopath and an Idiot_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END  
> So, what do you think of this... budding relationship between Anna and Jim? I like hearing your thoughts, so let me know!


	14. The Great Game: Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to keep writing and include their dinner date, but decided to drop it where I did and just have their date be chapter 15. It's certainly... interesting. Anna and Jim's 'relationship'. I kinda like it- he's charming. Blame him.
> 
> Though, scenes with Anna and Greg are equally heart-warming.
> 
> What do you guys think? Out of the moments you've read in the 14 chapters, who do you ship more? Anna and Jim OR Anna and Greg?
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock- just Anna.

The next morning came before Anna even knew it- and for the first time in a while, she woke up in somewhat high spirits. Checking her mobile quickly before she began to get ready for the day, she saw a message from Jim.

Jim:  
Good morning. Can't wait to see you tonight. Have a wonderful day. See you later, beautiful. -JM

With a soft smile, Anna typed out a reply.

"Good morning. Can't wait. What should I wear?" Hitting send, she set her phone down and went to get dressed for the day. After choosing an outfit and promptly changing her mind a few times, Anna settled upon a dark red button up and black slacks. As she left the bathroom, her phone began to ring- and Lestrade's name on the caller ID.

"Good morning, Lestrade. That time already?"

"' _Fraid so, Holmes. I know Sherlock will show up- so out of all my forensics—"_

"I'm the best choice. I know," Anna smirked, slightly teasing her hair as she looked in the mirror.

" _We're over here on the River Thames—I'll message you the actual location_."

"Sounds good, see you in a bit."

Hanging up, she saw another message waiting her.

Jim:  
Something… dressy. Not like- high society glamour, but… breathtaking all the same. JM

" _Dressy… I—"_ she thought, glancing over at her closet in moderate debate _," I don't know if I even have anything dressy… Might need to find a store on my lunch…"_

Thirty minutes later, Anna walked down the uneven embankment towards where she saw the body. Lestrade was standing nearby, talking with a few of the officers but when he saw her, he dismissed them to do some canvassing.

"You do realize how difficult it will be to find any evidence, right?" Anna asked him, gesturing with an arm towards the river just feet away.

"That's why I called in the best."

She narrowed her eyes at him, playfully quipping back," Flattery will get you everywhere, Lestrade." He gave her a lopsided grin, his hands on his hips as he waited for her to do her thing.

"Sherlock been here yet?"

"Not yet, no," Lestrade answered," Should be arriving shortly though."

"Right. Well, before he does…" Anna trailed off, looking at the crime scene around her. The victim was a middle-aged man—whom was missing his shoes. Pulling on the latex gloves, she began to take a few photographs- capturing details that could be needed later. Stopping her photograph session, Anna looked the victim up and down before glancing back down at the Thames.

"It's going to be near impossible to find any evidence. The rivers tampered with the scene as it is, what with the rising tide. The chance of getting anything from this is going to be—"

"Easy enough."

Glancing behind her, she saw Sherlock and John walking towards them. Frowning slightly- still a bit upset at her date being cut short yesterday- Anna stood up and gestured towards the victim.

"Well, then- help yourself Sherlock. I've got other evidence to document." As she turned away to take photographs elsewhere, Sherlock opened his mouth.

"Dressing up, are we? Date must have gone well enough yesterday."

"Date?" Lestrade questioned," What date?"

"Sherlock—drop it," Anna replied tartly," I keep my personal life and my work life separate. Please, respect that Lestrade."

"Of course," the Detective Inspector nodded, noticeably still interested but changed to the subject at hand," D'you reckon this is connected, then? The bomber?"

Anna walked close enough to the waters that she couldn't hear the majority of the conversation. She tried to keep her mind on the case at hand- though it did prove slightly difficult.

"There has to be some evidence around here… a wallet or identification of some sort… The nerve of Sherlock to bring up my date—and in front of Lestrade no less! …. maybe the killer dropped something… where am I going to find a dress on such short notice? One I can afford too… There has to be a clue to where our victim came from, more of his outfit perhaps…" With a frown and hardly any evidence at all, Anna walks back up to where the four bodies were.

"He's dead about twenty-four hours – maybe a bit longer," John said, looking up towards Lestrade," Did he drown?"

"Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiated."

"Yes, I'd agree."

"May I, Doctor Watson?" Anna asked, gesturing towards the body.

"Oh, no. Be my guest," John shook his head, getting up and giving her some space. Clicking a few more photos, she then reached into her case and began doing fingerprinting the victim. Off to the side, Sherlock was on his phone- searching one thing after another.

"There's quite a bit of bruising around the nose and mouth," John pointed out.

"Fingertips…" Sherlock muttered thoughtfully, seemingly ignoring them all.

"In his late thirties, I'd say. Not the best condition."

"Anything you care to share with the class, Brother Mine," Anna bit out, irritation evident in her voice. John gave her a small grimace, still a bit shocked at the row he saw between the two yesterday. Never again did John Watson want to interrupt Anna Holmes when she was on a date.

"He's been in the river a long while. The water's destroyed most of the data," Sherlock stated, oblivious to his sisters current state of annoyance; a grin crossed his features as he continued looking at his phone," But I'll tell you one thing: that lost Vermeer painting's a fake."

"What?" Lestrade and Anna asked in unison, each looking over at the other in slight shock, small smiles on their faces.

"We need to identify the corpse. Find out about his friends and associates…" Sherlock trailed off.

"Working on it Sher."

"Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait—" Lestrade waved his arms," What painting? What are you—what are you on about?"

"It's all over the place. Haven't you seen the posters?" Sherlock asked him," Dutch Old Master, supposed to have been destroyed centuries ago; now it's turned up. Worth thirty million pounds."

"Not too bad a price. I doubt those stolen in the 90's come even near that cost," Anna mused.

"Okay, but what does _that_ got to do with the stiff?" Lestrade asked, confused.

"Everything," Sherlock grinned briefly," Have you ever heard of the Golem."

"Golem?" Lestrade repeated.

"It's a horror story, isn't it? What are you saying?" John questioned.

"Golems aren't horror stories- if you're the one their allegiance is with. Golems are Jewish folk stories- giant men made of clay," Anna explained," If you rose a Golem, mostly it was to protect yourself or family, or to battle against an impending foe. Anything, really. If you are the 'Master' to the Golem, he follows your every order—sometimes too literally. The only way to stop him—was to destroy the sacred letter on his forehead or in his mouth."

"It's also the name of an assassin—real name Oskar Dzundza," Sherlock continued," One of the deadliest assassins in the world." He pointed down at the victim between them," _That_ is his trademark style."

"So this is a hit?" Lestrade surmised.

"Definitely. The Golem squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands."

"Very Golem-esque," Anna mused, kneeling back down to her forensics kit and putting away her camera equipment.

"But what does this gotta do with that painting? I don't see…"

"You do _see_ —you just don't _observe_!" Sherlock rounded on him, exasperated as Lestrade glared at him.

"Sherlock- play nice!" reprimanded Anna, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"All right, all right, girls, calm down," John said, playing peacemaker," Sherlock? D'you wanna take us through it?" Sherlock took a few moments before he responded, eventually taking a step backward and pointing to the body.

"What do we know about this corpse? The killer's not left us with much—just the shirt and trousers. They're pretty formal – maybe he was going out for the night, but the trousers are heavy-duty, polyester, nasty, same as the shirt- cheap."

"So he didn't have a lot of money—not everyone does," Anna frowned, standing up and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

With a small glare to his sister, Sherlock continued," They're both too big for him, so some kind of standard issue uniform. Dressed for work, then. What _kind_ of work? There's a hook on his belt for a walkie-talkie."

"Tube driver?" Lestrade guessed.

Sherlock and Anna both threw him a look that blatantly said 'idiot' though Anna's wasn't as harsh.

"Security guard?" John tried.

"More likely. That'll be borne out by his backside."

"Backside?!"

"Flabby. You'd think that he'd led a sedentary life, yet the soles of his feet and the nascent varicose veins in his legs show otherwise. So, a lot of walking and a lot of sitting around. Security guard's looking good. _And_ the watch helps, too. The alarm shows he did regular night shifts."

"Why regular? Maybe he just set his alarm like that the night before he died."

"No-no-no, the buttons are stiff, hardly touched. He set his alarm like that a long time ago. His routine never varied."

"But…?" Anna trailed, knowing her brother. He gave her a small smile, before continuing.

"The killer must have been interrupted, otherwise he would have stripped the corpse completely. There was some kind of badge or insignia on the shirt front that he tore off, suggesting the dead man worked somewhere recognizable, some kind of institution," Sherlock pulled something out of his pocket before continuing," Found this inside his trouser pockets."

As he held up a small scrunched up ball of paper.

"Sherlock! You can't take evidence from my crime scene!" Anna scowled as she took a step forward.

"Unimportant. You'd have never gotten anything from these," Sherlock said as he shrugged.

"Tickets?" John inquired.

"Ticket stubs," Sherlock corrected, watching slightly as Anna frowned and knelt down to collect her forensic kit," He worked in a museum or gallery. Did a quick check – the Hickman Gallery has reported one of its attendants missing." He pointed down at the body," Alex Woodbridge. Tonight, they unveil the re-discovered masterpiece. Now why would anyone want to pay the Golem to suffocate a perfectly ordinary gallery attendant? Inference: the dead man knew something about it – something that would stop the owner getting paid thirty million pounds. The picture's a fake."

"Fantastic," John admired, noticing Anna stand up quietly- almost tensely- with her kit in her grasp.

"Meretricious," Sherlock frowned, immediately picking up on his sisters' sour attitude.

"And a Happy New Year!" Lestrade threw in, causing John to look at him with a 'seriously' expression.

"Well," Anna bit out," Seems as though you don't need me here. Afterall- got Sherlock to solve this one. I'll be back at the Yard, working. Where I'm actually needed on something." She turned and walked away, entire body tense and rigid.

"Annie—" Lestrade started, but she just kept walking away; he and John gave sighs as Sherlock seemed in his own mind, watching his sister walk away from them.

She ducked under the crime scene tape and over to the department vehicles.

"I can't believe him! He knows not to take evidence—especially from my crime scene. MINE!" Anna seethed to herself, dropping her kit unceremoniously onto the street and slamming her palms against the upper door to the backseat on the SUV. Lowly, she growled- just loud enough for herself to hear. This was the last thing she needed. Everything was going so good—until Sherlock got involved.

Yesterday. She was having a very pleasant time with Jim. First date in a long while.

Then Sherlock and Anderson had to interrupt.

Oh, they both got a piece of her mind when she got back to the Yard after lunch. Anderson actually had yet to even talk to her.

Now. Today. Anticipating a dinner date with Jim—and Sherlock goes and takes evidence from HER crime scene?!

Anna felt like hitting something or—

"Annie?" Her hands clenched at the top of the SUV and she took a deep breath before slowly turning around. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes.

"'m fine," Anna mumbled.

"Look, we all know Sherlock has a habit of stepping on people's toes," Lestrade gave a small grimace," Can't get too worked up about it."

"But he knows better!" she exclaimed, finally looking at the DI," Sherlock—Mycroft—they both know! This- forensics?! It's **my** world. It's what I do! I don't go into their office or workspace and start moving crap around without asking them! I don't tamper with Sherlock's experiments or—or rearrange Mycroft's files! Sure—the ticket stubs are beyond getting any pertinent evidence from but—but it's the principal of the idea!"

Lestrade stood there, letting Anna rant until she finished with a deep breath and leaned against the vehicle behind her.

"Feel better?"

"…."

"C'mon. I'll give you a lift back to the Yard."

"… Thanks."

He unlocks the SUV and they start the drive back to Scotland Yard in silence, until after a couple minutes, Lestrade speaks up.

"So… a date, eh? Didn't realize you were seeing anyone."

"Well, uh—I mean… yeah," Anna nods once, slowly," I am human after all… Unlike my brothers… I, erm… I actually like physical contact and uh… intimacy."

"Right, of course. Well, erm… be safe then, yeah? Don't want anything bad happening to you."

"Right… thanks Lestrade," Anna smiled softly, a gentle blush on her face.

0o0o

She spent all her lunch break walking around the shopping district nearby, trying to find a dress that would work for her date. Unfortunately, she returned empty handed and with an empty stomach. With a frown, Anna scrolled through the posts online, searching online shops.

" _I have to find something. Anything,"_ she scowled, barely aware of her surroundings as she weaved her way through Homicide. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move, but didn't have time to register the body until they ran straight into one another.

"Oh—sorry."

"My apologies."

Anna and Detective Lockwood said in unison, looking to one another before small smiles crossed their faces.

"How's the 3-way mystery murder going?"

"Mmm? Oh—well, you'll be happy to know you were right. The two victims did team up and beat the other one to his death."

"No surprise. How'd they two of them die though?"

"One shot the other and then he actually died of poison—not sure where he got that, yet. Still searching his enemies—which the list is rather… extensive."

"Sounds like a fun time," Anna joked.

"I wish. Heard you and Lestrade caught a floater over by the river?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Well—Lestrade and Sherlock did. I excused myself from being on the case actively."

"Sorry?"

"Oh—it's just… sibling disagreements. I—can't work with my brother right now. It'll work itself out within the week. Always does," Anna shrugged, before asking," Hey—you wouldn't happen to know of a good shop around where I could find a dress? Kind of in a pinch and need one, oh—yesterday."

"Sorry—can't say I do. Still getting used to the area."

"Right- worth a shot. Woman to woman after all. Guess I'll just… see if my old dress from graduation still fits…"

"Another hot date?" Detective Lockwood smirked playfully, causing Anna to rub the back of her neck sheepishly.

"Yeah. Guess I made an impression at lunch yesterday. He didn't tell me where we're going… but did say to dress up so…"

"What time you meeting him?"

"He's picking me up at six."

"You're a size… oh—I hate converting sizes," Lockwood frowned.

"Just add 4 to the States size, that'll equal the UK size," Anna explained.

"So US size 9 would be… 13 UK—looks like we're close to the same size, too. I might have something that will fit you, if you want to borrow it for the night," offered Lockwood.

"Wh—Are you… are you sure?" Anna asked, surprised.

"Yeah—I mean, I don't wear it too often. Last time I did was four months ago? Right before we moved out here."

"Than- wait. We?"

"Mmm? Oh, uh," Lockwood hesitated," Yeah… my cousin and I—we moved here together. I… I figured it would be better…" Anna saw a far-off look gloss over the detective's eyes as she trailed off.

"Well, hopefully it works out for the both of you," Anna said, as Lockwood came back with a small jolt.

"Thanks. But uh—yeah. I'm getting ready to leave for my lunch break. I'll head to my apartm- flat. Grab the dress for you and keep it up here with me. I don't think a forensics lab with hundreds of chemicals would be a good place to momentarily stash it."

"Yeah—no, that would not be a good idea," Anna laughed in agreement," I'll head home about four-thirty—stop up here before I do and pick it up."

"Sounds good. See you then."

" _I really hope that dress fits—I don't have time to find anything else…"_ Anna thought, as she made her way towards Lestrade's office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holiday's, Ya'll <3


	15. The Great Game: Date Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of trouble- that I had- writing this single chapter- was unreal.  
> But I honestly am not the greatest with 'dates' and 'flirting'.
> 
> That or I'm not as behind JimAnna as I thought I was. So- if this seems forced, I apologize in advance.
> 
> Also:  
> Happy New Year ya'll!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Criminal Minds- but Anna, Cheyanne and Blakely are mine.

The clock behind her read Four Fifty-Six. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Anna tried reasoning with herself.

" _The dress isn't too bad—really. Besides, there's no where near enough time to change now, Jim will be here any moment_."

Running her palms down the burgundy form-fitting dress, Anna swallowed the lump in her throat. Dresses weren't really her thing—and while the dress was beautiful, she just felt a bit out of her element. With her hair falling loosely over one shoulder and some matching burgundy lipstick, it was the best that the youngest Holmes could manage.

" _Maybe I could just switch into my white-"_ she began to think, before a soft buzz sound came from the main room.

"Anna?" Jim's voice sounded from the speaker on the wall near the door.

"Too late," Anna sighed; she gave herself one last look in the mirror before leaving her room and walking towards the door, pushing a button on the speaker.

"I'll be right out." Standing up straight, she took a deep breath to collect herself.

Yes. Dresses were not her usual attire.

Yes. This dress was a bit on the shorter side, coming to just barely past her fingertips—with a small slit in the front.

No. She was not going to back out of her date. Not now. Not after everything—especially since Jim was literally twenty feet away.

Tugging on her black strap heels, Anna grabbed her clutch and key to the flat before walking out the door and down the hall. As she passed one of her neighbors, the elderly lady gave her a smile.

"You look very nice, Anna darling. Who's the lucky man?"

"Just… someone new."

"Hmmm, well—I'm glad you're finally getting out there, darling. Now, try to not make too much noise after, yeah? I still need to sleep."

"Mrs. Hanson—I—"

"It's alright dear! You're young! Enjoy life—all the juicy bits of it!" the elderly lady giggled, before disappearing back into her flat.

Trying to keep the blush down, Anna walked over to the door as she shook her head. Opening the door, she saw Jim standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his suit's pants.

" _Bloody hell…"_ She thought, before getting a grasp of herself and closing the door behind her.

"Evening," Jim smiled as Anna approached, reaching out for her hand and giving a quick kiss to her knuckles," You look beautiful."

"T-thanks," Anna blushed, surprised by her own stutter, before adding," You look quite nice, yourself."

"I do try," he smirked, as if it was an inside joke with someone, before gesturing towards the waiting car behind him," Shall we?"

0o0o0o

After the vehicle came to a stop, Jim exited and held the door open for Anna, extending his hand politely.

"Thank you," Anna smiled, climbing out of the car and looking around," W—This… isn't Bills."

"I hope you don't mind," Jim chuckled to himself, smiling sheepishly, as they walked up to the door of Sticks'n'Sushi.

"Not at all," Anna smiled," Keeps things… interesting." He flashed her a smile, opening the door for her and following her in.

"How many?"

"Two—a booth, if you would," Jim answered, as the waitress gave a nod and led them through the dining room.

"Here you are—menu's. What to drink?"

"Uh—go ahead, I need to look," Anna told Jim, who nodded.

"I'll have a Purple Rain."

"Very well—and you, Miss?"

"Uh—" Anna muttered, looking over the drinks as fast as she could, before answering," Cool Mint Tea please."

"Be right out with those."

"Interesting choice," Jim smiled, ignoring his menu completely.

"Can't go wrong with tea and mint," Anna chuckled, flipping through the menu aimlessly," I'll be honest—I'm not entirely sure what to order. I don't eat Asian cuisine that often."

"That's quite alright," Jim told her, leaning back but keeping his eyes trained on her," Take your time. Maybe I can pick your mind a little bit more."

"As me anything."

"Any… other suitors I need to worry about? I'm sure you've a line of interested companions."

"Hah, right," Anna sarcastically laughed softly," This probably sounds… pathetic—but… you're the first person I've been out with in years. If it's not the Yard taking all my attention- then it's my brothers chasing off any potential dates. I'm actually honestly surprised neither of them have barged in already- has anyone tried-?"

"Nope, no surprise visits from overbearing older brother's," Jim smirked, leaning an arm over the back of the bench seat and loosening a button from his shirt to get more comfortable.

"Good—I'd be thoroughly embarrassed if they had. Let me know if they do? I swear, they are always treating me like such a child," Anna rolled her eyes, perking up as the drinks were brought over.

"Purple Rain and Cool Mint Tea. Ready to order?"

"Oh, uh—I—"

"May I?" Jim asked her, ducking his head slightly.

"Go for it," Anna gave a small smirk of her own, leaning back and watching.

"One Perfect Day and One Tokyo Non-Stop," Jim told the waitress," And—don't forget the chopsticks this time."

"Of course." The waitress disappeared, leaving the two of them there alone.

"So you come here often, then."

"Enough that they know what to expect from me," Jim smirked—almost darkly—before taking a sip of his drink. He sees her eyeball his glass as he does, and after lowering it to the table, he slides it over gently.

"Care to taste?"

"What's in it?" Anna asked curiously.

"Japanese Gin… infused with pea flowers, stirred with violet liquor… and lengthened with yuzu tonic water."

"Mmm that sounds good," she frowned.

"It tastes divine…"

Jim pushed it even closer to her, leaning forward in his seat as he done so.

"Any way I could… tempt you?"

Anna chews on the bottom of her lip, swallowing the lump in her throat as she looks at the drink. She could smell the beautiful aroma coming from the liquid—and for a split second she almost took the offer.

"I—I can't. I really- thank you though," Anna said, leaning back in her seat. She didn't miss the slight annoyance that flashed in Jim's eyes—but a smile quickly appeared on his face.

"Of course—I understand. Can't blame a guy for trying."

"Anything else you want to know? Favorite color? Allergies?"

Jim waved his hand almost dismissively," How about… more on your childhood? What was it like growing up—especially with your brothers?"

"Well, I could only tell you from nineteen-ninety-six on. That's when I joined the Holmes' family."

"Oh?" Jim questioned, leaning forward slightly.

"They adopted me when I was ten."

"Really now—what about before then?"

"Foster system, constantly bouncing around from one family to another. My… my birth family gave me up almost- almost immediately… Same day I was born…"

"Any idea as to why?"

"No," Anna sighed," Not for lack of trying. I've attempted multiple times to get into my file—but it's securely kept. Mycroft says even he can't access it. Which I honestly—highly doubt. He can get into anything if he tries, he just… for some reason—doesn't want to."

"Maybe I could…?"

"What? Oh—no! Don't sacrifice your career, please! I mean, yeah I'd like to know—but not at the cost of your job in IT. Don't worry about it, please," Anna told him, reaching across the table and gently placing her hand on top of his.

"Since you asked so kindly," he smirked. Just then, their food arrived at their table—leaving conversation to small talk.

An hour later, they stood up to leave- and Jim reached for his wallet, purposely keeping the total from Anna's knowledge.

"My treat. I was the one to ask you to dinner, after all," Jim told her, handing over his card.

"Such a gentleman," Anna told him, giving him a small smile.

"Trust me darling," Jim replied, his voice going a tad bit lower," I'm far from being a saint."

He took back his card and opened the door for her, walking out onto the street behind Anna.

"Good," she told him, a sly grin on her face as he opened the car door for her," Nice guys finish last, you know…" She saw the way his eyes darkened in lust- but only smirked to him as she slid into the car and got comfortable on the far side—Jim sliding in after her. His hand slowly crept across her thigh, coming to a stop and just resting for the entire car ride back to her flat. When they arrived, Jim helped her out of the car and walked her up to the door.

"I had a good time tonight, thank you," Anna smiled, turning around to face him.

"I'm glad. Maybe I can convince you for another night? If I can get you away from work for a second time…" Jim offered.

"I think I might be able to get away for a couple hours sometime," Anna nodded, as they both took a step closer to one another.

"I'll call you," Jim murmured.

"I'll be waiting," she replied softly, just as their lips connected. It quickly became a heated kiss—his tongue crept into her mouth, his hand to the back of her neck.

It shouldn't feel as wrong as it did.

Why did it feel wrong?

When an imaged flashed in her mind—she gasped in surprise, and quickly backed up—a hand on Jim's chest. He had a slightly wild look to him- but he didn't press her. Instead, he smoothed out his suit jacket as Anna collected herself.

"It's just—I mean—"

"It's quite alright, darling," Jim told her, gently taking her hand and kissing her knuckles," I've no problem waiting."

"Thank you," Anna whispered, before letting herself into the building—and then into her flat. Her back to the door, she pressed fingers to her lips and closed her eyes.

She wanted it.

Did she ever want that—an intimate connection with another person.

Jim was a great guy.

Romantic.

Funny.

Smart.

Qualities Anna looked for in a guy.

Then why—why did she see Lestrade's face in her mind when she was kissing Jim?


End file.
